ACCOUNT OF MY DAYS

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6 7 8 9 10
11 12 13 14 15
16 17 18 19 20

  keyword(s) in poems:

Sequence: 7

TRIPLE OUGHT
we have endured...

TURN OR BE TURNED
waking...

untitled
I am...

WEAK
my ill-rising...

FIRST DAY OF SPRING A BLIZZARD VISITS US
this last snow's weight and power...

BOOK OF THE DAY
a version of no corrections...

SNOWFALL
a cancel of...

HERE, YOU
valley of the powerless...

untitled
the minutes...

NOTES IN HIS OWN HAND
About the destroying condition....

NEIGHBORLY
our day...

untitled
out of the door...

JUST BARELY
here it is difficult...

untitled
quoted before I speak...

TRUE
time to notice...

POINT OUT
here is an impossibility...

COMPANY
there is a quiet before I speak...

HEARTENED
almost midnight...

IN PROCESS
giving thanks or sass...

CONTINUANCE
a face to look into for...

STRUGGLE TO UNDERSTAND
fresh tears...

PRAYER
heart made of dirt...

MONDAY
the call to remind me...

JUST LIKE ME
trying to move sideways...

HOW IT IS
the old smile...

THUNDERSTORM LIGHTNING FLASHES
the storm's welcome...

THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AT LEAST ONE PERSON
a shell game in which...

FOR THOSE LYING WAKEFUL AS IT STORMS
thunder off in the distance...

4/22/96
press of rain...

CONSCIOUSNESS
what grabs it...

CLEAR DARK
there should be...

untitled
see what...

START OF THE DAY
tight...

ADDRESSING YOU
if you are staring at me...

untitled
the strange diction...

untitled
3 a.m. an owl calls out...

WEATHER REPORT
showers and thundershowers...

NOTATION
I allow myself to be influenced. It is ...

WHEN YOU
arrive in ocean a wave arises inside you...

THEFT OF LINES FROM CERNUDA
Sleep...

10/20/96
my circles run through the woods...

untitled
held up my empty secrets...

THE FEELING OF IT
North begins hereabouts...

TIME TO GO
winter light...

A PLACE
it closes to them...

CLOSING MY EYES
as I die...

STORY ABOUT SAFETY
the wind up...

untitled
a voice in the room...

11/19/96
words rest...

untitled
clouds form...

POEM OF SLEEP
sky mists...

MUSIC
a music that makes me...

WHEN I READ
I read to keep steady...

SOS
the page shifts no rest a sea...

NOW REMEMBERING
the rain cuts...

CARRIED
I give up on my fingers...

HAWK
strong hunter...

OVER AND OUT
crossing over the creek bed...

FIRST WEEK OF NOVEMBER


the sky crowded with gray
each day at waking
covers the earth with a dim shine
moist and warm the air feels like spring

leaves down bark wet
trees look like a somber audience
here to witness in their dark suits

what is done by the sweep of cold air
which overnight drives the clouds away
to the same nowhere they came from
the sun's brilliance piercing

everywhere next day tender plants wilting
when the light strikes
their gone season
come now

and where in all this do I find
an emblem of myself or my fate?
clouds appearing and vanishing
the witness of trees
the summer things whose final blow
comes from the sun they lived for

or that very sun most brilliant
when its existence is naked
or the sky itself full then empty
empty then full its state always changing?