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...

CAUSE/EFFECT


because of mirrors I have a face
because of ears a voice
because the wind sinks into the snowbank
I have the determination to stay warm
before there was me there was
a transparent shape of me
sitting on a bench waiting to be visible

people went by cars moved down the street
a little dog trotted along
it was not the dog's shadow lingering it was mine
or a piece of it the first part to manifest
that stayed near the bench interested
in the precise emptiness there

how hard it is to know where to go next
I have filled all I am supposed to fill
and if I seem to be moving about freely
from another angle I am falling through the world
in the direct line I started on and no new
line of fall has appeared for me to follow
all that is left is to invite by my heaviness
a vacuum the shape of me to come along behind