ACCOUNT OF MY DAYS

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  keyword(s) in poems:

Sequence: 9

SPECULATION
the possession of life...


TO COUNT FOR WHAT
eyes scrape the borderland of no...


WHERE I AM/HAVE BEEN
our decisions are so small...


VIEW OF EARTH FROM MY HOUSE
stars out a light breeze...


MY FIRST LANGUAGE
alive in this time...


10/20/97
steadily consuming the purple-sweetness...


POSTCARD
I write to you from...


HERE
the beast and the waves...


LYRIC
moving through the dark...


APPLICATION
please send more poems...


IN THE DARK
friends the dark as much as you...


FOOTNOTE TO IN THE DARK
those who disappeared while still alive...


NOVEMBER
cold weather settles me...


WITHOUT CLOTHES
the right temperature for singing...


TO THE ASIAN MARKETS
we can be proud of our success...


3/1/98
the sunday walk a path...


REFUSAL TO MAKE MUSIC
I have lost my ears the silence is so large in them...


WEDNESDAY MORNING
with the sudden cold...


MY WINDOW
wonderful day...


untitled
sun flees we pursue...


MY WISHES
steady hand...


ON HIS WORK
bright from the roots...


THE LAST TIME I WAS AT YOUR HOUSE
while I snorted and rolled over...


untitled
sun's careful stroking breaks the frost...


untitled
there were some the wind dried some...


untitled
sun slant the wind dies moist...


FOLLOWING
the laws of migration over the ground...


HOW IT HAS BEEN
half dark or near dark...


THE TASK
There is a god or goddess for first ...


THINGS THAT ARE AND ARE NOT POEMS
things that kill us...


FRAGMENT
Doesn't. And complies again, removes the robe, there is the soft...


DREAMED OF MY EX-WIFE
We were selling a house back to the couple we had bought it from....


GRUMBLE
no other life has been given me...


11/1/98
the world sleeps...


THEFT OF A LINE FROM LALIC
a weight of fire brought home...


untitled
in another dream a pickled man...


AFTER HOURS
red flare west through the trees...


WHERE I STAND WITH HIM
a gift of storms bursts open...


DANCE OF LOVE
I couldn't touch the dancers' radiance...


DECEIVED MYSELF THINKING
of a poetry only...

OUR COURTHOUSE IS BEAUTIFUL


from the southwest corner on a clear April day
the stone steps rising between two old redbuds
their heads bushy with flowers and behind and above them
the blocky white courthouse itself backed by blue sky
the lawn is green daffodils surge the larger trees bud out
the monument to all the soldiers and wars is solid
even if some of the lettering is dissolving and the words go

but my favorite monument is on this side screened by shrubs
a tall square pillar with dried up faucets at its base
"drink and be grateful" "thirsty and ye gave me drink"
put up by the WCTU many decades ago in pure idealism
and desire for new laws--did it have a statue on top?
I can look this up--because we are a people of ideals and laws

we will break our heads or others' on history if it won't
give way to our banging we have sought a prosperity
to end all prosperity and it never ends the empire
of winners and losers the frontier of it is moving outward
leaving us behind searching the strip malls
for a measure of our limitations

how harsh to love a place that seeks ideal laws
and is always moving away from you
I think it is in a desert now building fires
and spreading ideals our heads have forgotten so sore
from the banging but that's OK I can spin in circles
till I stumble like a drunk in front of the WCTU monument
I can watch the republic dissolve in the distance
into empire and be thankful I'm still here
and lost and ready to fall like a city of millions but really
I'm just a dizzy smalltown provincial who loves April
and stone steps and thinks our courthouse is beautiful