ACCOUNT OF MY DAYS

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  keyword(s) in poems:

Sequence: 2

12/20/89
Armor and...


PERSONAL APPEARANCE BY THE AUTHOR
I didn't shave or comb my hair this morning. The long coat...


untitled
aching a little...


DAYS BEFORE
the killer's mother is coming...


NIGHT CREATURES
under the devious arch of the night...


AUTOBIOGRAPHY
first I died...


untitled
When I lift my hands do not pull back,...


untitled
Here you are beside me...


untitled
you were leaping from roof to roof...


CONVERSATIONS
arguing about suicide...


I SAW
things...


untitled
putting the beach out...


WRITING ON A MIRROR
my pen is red it sinks into my hand...


PEARL STREET
I love him singing...


I TRY BUT
you won't leave me alone...


untitled
the better I did...


LAMENT
Is now the time to praise...


I COULD FALL OVER
Always losing patience with...


11 ARGUMENTS
I insist on the rightness of my thoughts....


POEM ENDING WITH MY NAME
I watch TV....


untitled
spring loosens up her veins...


AN AFTERNOON
A girl and a boy were walking through a forest of apple...


THE NEW REPUBLIC
a conspiracy against time...


BELIEVING IN A HIDDEN ENEMY
I went up the stairs in the dark....


THOUGHT
Who's behind...


untitled
I will marry my blear eye to a blind eye...


I SUBMIT TO THE DOCTORS
with starved breath...


SUGGESTION
Let the poets die...


WALK WITH FLOWERS
chamomile with their secret of sleep...


FIVE SEASONS
King Curtis blows his...


SKETCH
In the dark the boy...


ON THE OTHER HAND
now that I'm dying...


ON ONE HAND
the mark a cat's claw...


ANOTHER OCTOBER: McCORMICK'S CREEK
upstream stone blocks back the water up...


COMING CLEAN (WITHOUT LOVE)
Cows bellering on their feet....


WAITING FOR THE EARTHQUAKE
the dead who can...


ME AND MY BIRD
The water is round...


SENTENCE
A restaurant where you are left alone...


MYTH
Everyone is shouting...


RETURNING THANKS AFTER EATING
I know I'm out...


SEQUENCE OF DESIRE
wanting to stop smoking...


HOME JOURNAL
I forget...


HERE BEGINS THE POEM OF MY LEFT HAND
My left hand is a child...


HE SAID
everything mastered him...


BRIGHT METAL FRAIL REED
my breath loves to narrow itself...


DEVOTION
the moan bird is soaring...


NOCTURNE
I am waiting...


SCHOOL
I love him in his smelly pants...


1/14/91
Starting the blood...


REPORT
when I say...


TWO SENTENCES
And as for the rest of it: no, I don't believe we should ever...


CHARACTERISTICS OF A DOOR
with a thumbtack for an eye...


DESTINATION
after it is long since dark...


NEW BREATH IN ME
you are clouds...


THE UNLOVED BELOVED
"The Unloved Beloved" is written by the crazy son of the man...


AGAINST REPRISALS
a well cut jacket of despair...

STARTLED


I hadn't gone three steps before the mocking began. The bell
again, of course. Flutes blowing slowly, but the bell. From
its ringing, eyes looked out: the world was paper to them, and
the writing was something else. He spoke, and the spokes formed
a wheel around me. We could move forward or back up, my nature
as axle supported a black box appropriate for either movement.
The experienced world was not callous, though it had lost much
to its emptiness. Wider and wider, emptier and emptier. I saw
my experience and startled. I reflected on this and tried to
understand. He spoke again, this time about grief and its connec-
tion to the growing emptiness. After gravity, after vibration,
grief will be the last force at work. Very soft light this mor-
ning, the eastern cedars green wherever they get a chance, brown
otherwise, or gray. I will never understand what I did by living.
A choice could be made, wood of the trees fashioned into boats,
the wide inward-to-outward sea, steel on board to cut with or
build. Voices over the water, no echoes, the song disperses
ahead of us, will we find it on the shore that catches us? Or
it may go on ahead, following the rivers up to the mountains,
their marble revealed, something always too hard and upward to
gain, but the echoes! at last, shod in our troubles, they come
back to us.