ACCOUNT OF MY DAYS

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  keyword(s) in poems:

Sequence: 3

BE DIGITAL
and believe what falls between your fingers...


DAYLIGHT FARM SUPPLY
wet lawns along the river...


ASKING FOR HELP
the one I want...


BYE BYE
to be commanded to sit down...


HEAVEN AND HELL
Understand me: I was the boy...


MY FACE IN THE MIRROR
what have you done...


MESSAGE
there is a line...


ALERT
televangelists and...


ANNOUNCEMENT
the modern boat is sinking!...


NO MISTAKES
understand me: I am the musician...


FINDING
my eyes if I should lose them...


LOVE POEM
sh! the poet is sleeping...


AFTER
the crowd without its beggar...


AGAINST IMMORTALITY
I don't want to live forever...


ADJUST
At last the flow of water has changed:...


PROTESTANT MEMORY
to keep myself from crying...


DOWNPOUR
the cats come in...


RELIGIOUS SCENE
on the wall of the steakhouse...


ON MY CARPET
he calls it his...


APPEAL
your honors...


SONG OF CONFESSION
my heart a poisoned well...


DRIVING
the black femur...


INTERSECTION
the corner of lost memory...


FIRST COLD DAY
in the back yard...


THEFT OF A LINE FROM SIMIC
dark night...


EXAMINATION
reading the heart's...


ABSURD
to say...


NEVER COMPLETE
bowing like a long-necked bird...


AS HE SHIFTS THEM
In the back pew of...


untitled
this poetry...


END OF THE EIGHTIES
the story takes...


12/31/91
outside in...


IN A CAR
we're in California...


MORNING INCIDENT
Getting up to let the cat in I felt myself growing weak,...


untitled
you wiped out...


4/3/92
a dream...


FAILING TO RECOGNIZE
even as it occurred...


ROCK PAINTING
the dance I did...


REFUSING TO UNDERSTAND
what comes from the dog's mouth...


NIGHTWORK
the secret government...


ODE TO THE FRIENDS OF POETRY
the friends of poetry...


LOCATION
rights and privileges...


SENSE OF AN ENDING
the last breath I...

Listen!


THE ARGUMENT

A burning house invites the comet in for a meal. The conver-
sation turns ugly and the comet leaves. The house remains be-
hind to see how much of it can burn and it still remains be-
hind. There is a figure creeping near the house, and every
so often you can see him look in his hand. He is comparing a
photo of the house burning with the house burning. His wife
waits in the car. Her friend in the second grade had long red
hair and her name was . . . If only she could remember! She
would start the car and drive home, her husband would be left
standing there stupidly, everything would end satisfactorily.
But she will not go until she remembers. The house is very
bright now, its flames are waving at the comet, best to let
bygones be, no sense holding grudges, especially as the comet
is getting ready to leave the solar system. The comet packs
its bags with rice and stolen watches, moody. Yes, the house
can have its way. No sense stirring up trouble. But it could
have worked out differently. Oh well, the comet sighs, I will
be back again in some decades, and the house won't even be a
patch of black ground by then. Its soot will be forgotten,
eyes the smoke made water will have long been dust, but I'll
still have my ice and my long hair and my legend.