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: 8

REVEALED BY SPLITTING
my face is of oak...


12/14/96
a voice saying...


MAKING SENSE ON A SNOWY MORNING
my woods fill up with snow...


POINT AT WHICH
the speaking of the heart...


MY HUNGER
I have turned my stones...


MIDNIGHT
midnight your moonlight...


12/23/96
after the singing...


untitled
walk out Eric...


EGYPTIAN
the words which took...


ING
lean sleep...


IN MEMORIAM F.B.
his house of lead...


HOW TO GET THERE
go till the snow falls...


PLAN:
throw four stones...


MY STRUGGLE WITH MY WEIGHT
Mornings around here there is so much fog in the trees...


1/2/97
strange life with...


DARING ABSENCE
the seeing blind man...


FACE THE NATION
1. the fine line in my tranquility...


FOUR BY FOUR
objects I have turned...


untitled
in the waste of sky...


GOOD AND ILL FORTUNE
go through me...


1/17/97
the snow blows the road is battered...


CRITICISM OF SHOVELLING
my stubborn back keeps working...


POET'S DILEMMA
words running up and down...


REQUIREMENT
am I empty yet...


I WROTE THIS WHILE THINKING ABOUT WRITING IT (TITLE LAST)
warm air makes the snow soften...


POEM AS IT HAPPENS
rain gets to fill the spaces used...


EYES AND EARS
eyes very involved in silence...


PROSE POEM ON THE BAKERS (NO COMMAS)
I always see the bakers when I am in a hurry walking past the door...


HELP MIDWINTER
no work snow flies like doves...


THEFT OF LINES FROM THE GNOSTICS
alone with my name...


IF JORDAN FLOODS
season of rising...


COMET AND SAINTS
now don't for-...


THE ARGUMENT
A burning house invites the comet in for a meal. The conver-...


FOOL'S DAY
it was my voice...


SIXTEEN LINES
reading a life...


OUT OF RESPECT
Albert Ayler's jukebox...


AGAIN
what the river of sound delivers...


ASHLAND
all I have buried...


4/27/97
the light rain...


untitled
you want me to stay...


I HEAR
your voice...


THE CLASSIC OF STONE
I had some...


JUST WAIT
too hot to eat the late hours...


NEO WHAT
just got through...


7/6/97
the dusk cool breeze...


KNOWN BY WHAT
deceived by everything...


STOLEN
a voice speaks...


WELCOME TRASH HAULERS
our miles of caves where...


TOO HOT
no rain to satisfy...


THEFT OF LINES FROM THE GNOSTICS AND KAUFMAN
one of rock, one of slime,...


COME ON
in your hand...


GUIDE FROM THE PERPLEXED
this is to let you know...


PRAYER THAT FELL THROUGH MY HANDS
did I understand what I said...


GOOF OFF
it was the ordinary hour...


PRACTICES
juxtaposed thoughts from separate days...


OUR DAYS
my brother in the tree...

Listen!


WHEN I READ


I read to keep steady
I read to gain courage
I read because of my imperfections
I read when loss or fear threaten to overwhelm me
I read out loud I read silently I read without understanding
    any of it
I read as a form of conversation with the dead or distant
when I read my boney hands become artful
like a surgeon's hands they penetrate to the heart of the
    text and close the body up again
in my reading I am not faithless or changeable I am not on my
    guard or hopeless
my legs are not necessary to my reading but they are there
    too
in fact they may have gained more wisdom than my mind (see
    where they have carried me) and more freedom than my
    speech (they offend no one)
I read books newspapers magazines I read boxes menus directions
    price tags I read free offers self justifications half
    truths pleadings attacks confessions diaries
I read pages scraps bridges bathroom walls the bark of certain
    trees dirty cars the steam on mirrors tattoos public
    monuments
I read misdirected mail that comes my way with a thrill that
    at last I will know someone else's truth
I read with my eyes I read with my tongue my ears fingers
    forehead elbows knees
I read the axe's stroke with the back of my neck the epidemic
    with my fevers famine with my hunger
my heart beats I read that my piss is discolored I read that
alone in bed I read the space next to me composed by many
    others
dawn comes I read the sky seasons roll I read the cold and heat
I read with the face of a child hidden behind my face
I am with you now as you read this
we are at the edge of a forest where a plain of grasses
    stretches to the horizon
a river runs nearby we hear its washing everything is breathing
we look in each other's eyes and see the reading no I mean
    we read each other reading each other
when we touch skin reading skin our books fatten until
we are weary and collapse into sleep our dreams reading us
    and what we know so well we have forgotten