ACCOUNT OF MY DAYS

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  keyword(s) in poems:

Sequence: 4

ABOUT TO SIT DOWN
Stepping out the back door...


KISS HIS EAR
Brown corn bends as...


STALLING OUT
Just by getting enough distance...


PAGE ZERO
my mind's blank wall...


PARTING
words just off...


CRICKETS HESITATE
the night...


FROM AND TO
my first eternity...


IN THIS LITTLE POEM OR WORLD
I mislaid my travel plans the map...


FIELD GUIDE
indigo bunting no words...


untitled
I knew...


I STAY UP LATE
studying to live...


POEM OF EXPOSURE
the tender outcry...


untitled
underground I'll turn to you...


THEFT OF A LINE FROM TATE
I consider it a citizen's duty...


STANDING STILL IN
november...


HOW I TRAPPED THE MURDERER
I left out the part...


PROVERB
he who sleeps a false sleep...


A SUNDAY NIGHT SERMON FOR DAVID BAKER
The first step is to listen,...


I AM PART BUZZARD
my grandmother was a buzzard...


DEAR FUCKHEADS
my head hurts...


TILL IT THAWS
1....


RESOLUTION
I am so glad...


EVENING POEM
in the cellar...


DISTURBANCE
the world is alive...


FLIGHT
the gamblers...


VISIT
Buying toys, the one remaining copy...


STORM
in trouble again...


JUST AFTER DAWN
We sat among the cattle and he asked me ...


INTERPRETATION
Hour begets hour, dream begets dream,...


THE BUZZARD SPEAKS
I am proud...


INTERRUPTION
not knowing what to say...


JOSEPH'S POEM
if you wish to own a fear...


DIS-ORDER
of course...


BLUE MILLION
in the house dark...


untitled
blank pages spit their silence...


BROKEN POEM
life goes through...


AUTOBIOGRAPHY VOL. II
the day before my birth...


MARENGO
the pressure of seasons...


TODAY
awoke in the forest...

LANDSCAPE: WEATHER BECOMING DOLPHY


evidence of high wind
everything that gets so far off the earth
is returned to it thrown down
new growth starts up
the bones of what did tower

/and the animals get their backs and rumps roughed up from
    bowing backward to the gale
/and the birds are made to skim an arm's length ahead of the
    storm
/and the people are built with extra bracing, like houses
    that expect the worst

and what's out there
the weather
is the same as what's
in every human heart
bad trouble and energy
enough to make it real

/but over there on the edge of the earth is a black wood with
    extra-human sounds in it
/and if the animals and the bent trees keep pointing in the
    right direction
/and if only the wind can reach that far and then blow through
    it and if

the right fingers appear
with their silver keys
unlocking faster and wider
than the wind can
slam shut the doors of
the wood, we'll finally hear

Dolphy before his head burst
playing how to live
between out and inward weather
and what's so beautiful about it
after all, what's so
important about someone
pulling melody after melody
out of his bountiful mouth