ACCOUNT OF MY DAYS

sequence #
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11 12 13 14 15
16 17 18 19 20

  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...

OFFER


Guy in a blue shirt
take the walkman out of your ears,
I want to tell you something
illuminating about me.

Take my hand while we talk,
it's not cold or sweaty, there are fine
small hairs on its back, blue tunnels
underneath the skin, and in the cove

between thumb and forefinger
a grid of lines that maps the
electricity of my body. I'm charged,
guy in a blue shirt, with a mission

all my own to tell you this thing
I mentioned before--doesn't it
make you smile when a stranger
talks to you, and don't you feel open

now, as never since the first time
someone said your name gladly, guy
in a blue shirt, as if his mouth
were coining the only money he wanted

to spend, and can't you feel my
intentions rising to the best they could
be toward you, which is all or just
about all I wanted to tell you anyway.