ACCOUNT OF MY DAYS

sequence #
1 2 3 4 5
6 7 8 9 10
11 12 13 14 15
16 17 18 19 20

  keyword(s) in poems:

Sequence: 14

GOOD QUESTION
why do I write all the time ...


SOME MILLERSBURG
of your own ...


8/24/05
the dusk comes out and takes the woods...


untitled
lifting a light to help itself ...


BLACK AND GREEN
on state road four you came down...


SEEN FROM ABOVE
and without the distraction of time...


GROCERIES
when you think you see...


I TELL YOU HOW TO GET THERE
and what it's like...


A LONG LINE
at night in the sky...


SEPTEMBER, 2005
huddled masses...


THIS TIME OF YEAR
walking early out ...


LIVING HERE
on this tail end of white river water...


11/14/05
my nails hurt from the cold ...


untitled
on the track made ...


untitled
I kept a ...


untitled
my cold clothes ...


OUR HOUSES
the town the fields the woods...


A POEM AS A PILE OF STICKS
poetry is where I have not been before...


ALSO
the flames sweep upward...


ON NOT SLEEPING
here on the less end ...


THE MIDDLE OF MY LIFE
when I reached the middle of my life ...


untitled
the guillotine cause and effect ...


1/18/06
the future of one day...


SLEPT
rain fed a fire in the roots ...


POEM
widow...


WET ALL DAY
this cold rain is our earth's ...


ALL DOGS TO GET NEW LEASH
wet when it's wet...


NIGHT/SEA
staring into the night as into a sea...


2/6/06
wood coming today ...


BEND
when I take in hand...


WORK
my books bend under the weight ...


untitled
of the world ...


PEACE
late afternoon...


THEFT OF A LINE FROM OPPEN
return ...


I HAVE GAINED NOTHING I HAVE LOST NOTHING
new moon sliver ...


2/27/06
our disobedient worries ...


MANY DAYS RAIN
driving carefully on ...


THOUGHTS
my second thoughts ...


THEFT OF LINES FROM KHLEBNIKOV
the gouges in the sides ...


TO MY BAD HABITS
when I see you I think of myself ...


ON MY READING LIST THERE IS
a history of funerals so well-written...


WRITING AT NIGHT
its chief object ...


5/24/06
chilly mornings with bright sun ...


WORSHIPPING (WITHOUT GOD)
hands clasped weight on the knees ...


STATE FOREST
the trail through deep woods in a long slope ...


MY BED OF ROSES
on my bed of roses ...


4 A.M. LIGHT SO BRIGHT IT WOKE ME
old moon ...


MAN OF DREAMS
dusk ...


untitled
into the war...


NOT OURS
rain ...


untitled
passion over ...


IMAGINATION IMAGINATION IMAGINATION
earth floats higher...


6/21/06
the sun at noon ...


NOSTALGIA
the rain is an empty city ...


SELF-PORTRAIT (WITHOUT MY FACE)
ambivalent about irony...


LOOKING
blue backs and forked tails ...


7/28/06
first bat and first star...


DRIVING ON THE NARROW ROAD
off to one side this open hill ...


UNLIFTABLE
under all the alasses shadowing me ...


VISIT TO THE CEMETERY
over by the road the careless ...


HOW FAR
built on the water waking ...


FIVE THOUGHTS BEFORE SLEEP
the sand the shore moved...


AWAY LIKE WE WANTED
above the trees ...


WE KNOW THIS
The dead are sleepless, we know this, they need no rest. With ...


INNER WORLD
the river rich in me ...


WITHOUT KINDNESS
on its stalk the corn flames towards the mouth above ...

Listen!


THE UNLOVED BELOVED


"The Unloved Beloved" is written by the crazy son of the man
who teaches the masculine arts in the back of his hardware
store.  Everybody takes his classes, for he never shames his
students for their difficulties. He even forgives the one
who stole a Winchester propped against a wall in the rain
with a "please don't steal me" sign on it.  He needs help.
His fishing lines are tangled, and he wants reassurance about
his son, who is supposed to be good at what he does, though
his father does not understand.  What the man seeks from the
thief is confirmation that his son does well, that he is famous,
which is the kind of information only a thief would have.  The
man and the thief walk downstairs together, not where the police
can see them but behind all the activity in the store and mer-
cifully far away from the other students.  "He takes up a lot
of space," the thief says. "I mean, more than just his own."
He wants the man to be pleased, but he has never understood
such men, and he fears his comment will be taken poorly, so the
thief turns to the man and smiles and tries to make a joke of it.
He must not piss off the one man who could explain him to himself
in such a way that he could see he is not a thief, that what he's
done is entirely acceptable to the teacher of masculine arts.