ACCOUNT OF MY DAYS

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  keyword(s) in poems:

Sequence: 20

untitled
you know who...

THE GREAT WORKS
Reading one of the Great Works that you find annoying, you ...

SILENCE/WORLD
the silence is never a silence...

FRIGHTENED BY MY BOOKS AGAIN
they have in them many words to read...

12/13/12
the squrrels' efforts...

THIS LIFE
less led than lost...

FIRST SNOW
one might imagine Adam...

12/26/12
the wind moves along...

NOTES TO BEGIN WITH
noon on new year's day...

AFTERTHOUGHT
silence...

UNDERSTANDING EACH OTHER
the word for food...

STILLED FOREVER
the body of a mouse...

A CYCLOPS EXPLAINS TO A STRANGER POLYPHEMUS' HOWLS
every so often one of us here goes crazy ...

CONTINUATION
even zero has a hard time with nothing...

REGISTERED
from some abandoned clock comes...

DRIVER
are you still driving...

ABOUT THE FAMOUS COUNTRY
the leaves cover it...

NOT YET
not yet ready to write you...

A THOUGHT
the alley floor is cracked...

2/23/13
last weeks of winter...

REPETITION
those who in their agony of loss...

WAYS HE TRAVELS
the hastening traveler panting along the ways...

PERHAPS POSSIBLE
watch ...

STORM FORECAST
moss light under trees...

REPITITION II
die of grief make another grief...

ONLY AT NIGHT
only at night can I really see...

I KNOW WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE
the trembling you see...

REPITITION III
make another grief...

THE READER
the pages I turn sketch...

WONDERFUL
at the doctor's office...

LANDSCAPE WITH TWO MEN
in dark clothes walking over the year's...

REPETITION IV
...

4/29/13
barely light...

EVEN SO
a picture of least importance...

SAYING MORE
cold air on my skin as it leaves me alert pleases...

NEWS
the shamed man...

5/26/13
a penny drops on the floor...

IT RIDDLES
it isn't memory...

STORY
limbs of the tree gone astray...

JUST TO BE CLEAR
nothing wants to know...

SEEING
rain-centered region...

COMPARE AND CONTRAST
there is never just one crow...

I STILL ACHE
the little things said...

THE DIFFERENCE
an off-white sky...

PLAYING AGAIN
a store of chords held in the fingers laid...

THE TOWN
the town with its mildly hilly north side...

TO YOU
if it often seems...

IN TIME
to arrive in time with some of what you've packed...

HIS INTENTION
He left, lying where I would be sure to see it, a little written...

1937
the Ohio in flood...

STONE SYMPATHY
this large rock in the abandoned field...

ANOTHER KIND OF WIND I REMEMBER
the whirlwinds that used to come...

DREAMS
That was childhood, when I believed anyone could fly if they ...

WHAT THEY BUILD AND WHERE
they build their cities on the plain...

A PARTICULAR HEAVEN
after the end...

BORDERLANDS
In some of the places where boundaries meet there can be a ...

WHAT IT KNOWS
an invisible warning...

WHAT IF YOU WERE THAT MAN IN THE MIRROR?
no thoughts or feelings within you...

IRONY WATER
the irony water I drank in youth...

MY LIFE DOES THE MATH
my life poorer by a day...

HIS INTENTION


He left, lying where I would be sure to see it, a little written
thing--written by hand, some lines more legible than others, 
with crossouts or insertions, all the labor involved visible. It
thus gave an appearance of spontaneity, but it must have been 
one of those things that stay at the margins of thought for days,
the notion and the intention there but the words not ready. In
any case, I read, after a short introduction or set-up, these 
words: "I know him perfectly--E., I mean--but does he know me?
By making him act, think, feel, speak, do I reveal myself to 
him? I think not. I am the unknown condition that makes him
possible--perhaps even the unknowable one, since whatever 
conditions require us to exist do not reveal themselves. But I
shouldn't flatter myself as the only such condition for him. Not
only other conditions than the ones I set demand his appearance,
but lying behind the opaque smooth surface of necessity some
similar set of unknowables requires me, so I exist at the behest
my own mysterious requirements, one of which is perhaps to bring
about his existence. Maybe each of us has required the other. But 
to know one so well who remains ignorant of oneself! An irony or 
torment." This written in his usual jumbled script, the letters 
occasionally falling apart or crashing into each other. What was 
his intention in leaving it there?


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