ACCOUNT OF MY DAYS

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  keyword(s) in poems:

Sequence: 10

FRESH START
the author of many leaves...


I ASK YOU
what I am about to do and what...


untitled
The work defines itself, pulls itself...


LARRY MILLER
when you call back there to order the flowers...


ADDENDUM TO LARRY MILLER
punched him in the stomach once...


MY FORTY-NINTH BIRTHDAY
the balance point between years...


THE DROUGHT
if the drought means anything we haven't been told...


I SPEND
hours alone with my books...


SO FAR AS I CAN
the trees at night stretch out...


ANGEL MOUND
stone spades hammers awls...


untitled
sleep drunk from a glass of sleep...


EAST
East, innocence, enormous, a blush over half the sky. Now that...


WHAT IS FUCKED UP ABOUT THIS
is a question that can be answered...


CAN'T STOP TALKING
sat so still you noticed...


SETTLEMENT
1....


PAUSE ON THE ROAD IN CUMBERLAND GAP TENNESSEE
It was speed, the technology of rapidity, that made the nation pos-...


ON THE STAIRS IN THE DARK
it is late to be starting again...


THREE SLEEPS
a sleep that wanders...


WINTER PRAISES
of abandoned nests...


untitled
what will always be true?...


KEEPING AT IT
I recite the alphabet in the traditional way...


TALKING TO THE STONES
I am living before you dissolve...


NOT LAMENTING
a lament I am forbidden to speak...


A:
I think it's that I always had the feeling that what is really true,...


HAVE COME HERE
even when I'm late...


THE DAY AFTER THE DAY AFTER
a place in the paperwork...


7/25/00
beetles crushed between my fingers...


MY CURRENT MOOD
certain observations have broken their heads...


STILL
making no effort if I can...


GOLDFINCH ON A WIRE
black line in his feet...


SUMMER PRAISES
the ground-filling rain...


LISTENING TO
the music that keeps me up late...


THE STONE BOAT
that sled of thick oak planks...


DISAPPOINTMENT
under the shade of the words I wrote...


AUGUST
the fields with their fine catch...


AT THE ENCORE CAFE
with your roast potatoes...


WANDERING POEM
on the road...


MY VACANCY
the old hours come back...


untitled
I protest...


8/3/01
when I go inside...


ONE MOTION
swifts of the city come and go...


THE YEAR OF MY ABSENCE
a number of stones under my feet...


REFUSAL
I am awake now...


11/26/01
in the dark before dawn the stars...


WINTER GENESIS I
mornings on this stone seat...


WINTER GENESIS II
under cold tree branches stacked stones outline...

FOR SIR JOHN MANDEVILLE


I wear my pants
but my shoes are in my hand
I search my eyes in the mirror

for reverence and knowledge
I make my face hard as a frame
so my eyes in turn can be a mirror

they are brown and brown
they are bright in their sockets
when they are ready I put on my shirt

like the people of Thana
I am preparing myself to worship
the first thing I see in the morning
       ___________________

the door is guardian
to my tender hellos and farewells
and I worship the wood and the brass

the knob can latch or unlatch
so I must touch it and acknowledge
its usefulness for my staying or my leaving

which is holy either way
but the leaving is more likely
to make me love what is inside my house

the second thing I see
is the honeysuckle bush untended
so that it reaches out and up like a man

praising what he has
before him what he takes
into his mind to keep it right

in May the bush flowers
the scent goes blowing out
the bees are there in their hundreds

but the flowers
are there in thousands
and overwhelm the senses

of the bees and me
because it is of such value
I am sure the bush does the gods' will

and they love its scattered effects
as they do the teem of stars and planets
running circuits of praise in the fields of the night

or the face of the great sun
loving to give its heat to the creatures
who turn their prayers to the warm good above them
       _________________

and so I worship
things in the order I see them
I remember that Adam and Eve wept 100 years
         
after Paradise
till they filled a lake
at the top of a high mountain
         
and in the reeds
growing all round the lake
live crocodiles and other snakes
         
and at the bottom
mud like in any lake
only thicker and blacker
         
it smells like roses
there are precious stones in it
and pearls and gems like mens' eyes