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: 6

untitled
the first page is spoiled...


WHAT FUN IS THIS
the best-tied shoes and most...


POEM BEGINNING WITH MY NAME
Eric...


SELF PORTRAIT
I am not a poet...


THE MOON'S WHITE BODY
it costs everything...


STOP DON'T DO IT
I am caught on the scaffold...


THEY SAID
I address my prayers to...


STOOD TO SPEAK IN CONFUSION
the eye dividing itself in thirds...


ALL THE NURSING IN THE WORLD
fellow citizens I speak to you of health...


YOUTH OF AMERICA
sex now is not the sex it was...


untitled
I never tell you the truth...


REM
Due to neglect of the most important parts of sleep, all the...


WAKING
their eyes all...


CURIOSITY
the president of the future...


THEN
your rain falls...


EXAMINATION
Called to death's home town to account...


WHAT TO DO
make maps...


HOUSEHOLD
my human soul...


ONE SHELF OF MANY
a book about murdering...


ON THE EIGHTH DAY
God made puddles...


WHAT HE BUILT AND HOW IT WORKED
on a flat surface tilted towards...


REQUEST
I want a stone above me...


APRIL
the horizon is only the horizon...


I AM
whose shadow am I...


untitled
in the cave of my eye...


untitled
a difference...


untitled
it's not possible...


HEEDING
press my wrist to my ear...


THEFT OF LINES FROM ELIADE, ANGLETON, STOKER, AND ROTHENBERG
Mother of Sleep...


WHAT DID I NOTICE ABOUT TODAY
leaves mostly down...


GIFT
here is a stone...


IN INDIANA
dogwood holds out its hands palms upward...


HERE WE ARE
the nuthatches land on my porch...


MAIN THEMES
consciousness of loss...


LOVELINESS OF DISTANCE
some nights...


GOD MY WITNESS
open hearted...


SIGH
once gone...


untitled
so many things...


THE USUAL
a phone call rouses me...


CHECK UP
the noble doctors...


YESTERDAY
one comes to my door...


DIAGNOSIS
needs will need and again will need...


WORKING ON
my biography...


MISTAKEN
have come to understand...


HERE/NOT HERE
a bit of ice on things...


untitled
strip of gold colored ribbon...


BUSY
making my dust...


PROPOSITIONS
white hours...


NIGHT, THAT MAKES US SEE
what enters as a blow on the shoulders...


LIFE WITHOUT IDOLS
like any protestant...


THANK YOU NOTE
the heavy clouds...


I WRITE
to tell you how...


NOTHING WASTED
Trial and disillusionment, the stone's...


THROUGH THIS BEFORE
shoulders bent...


POINT OF VIEW
wind world...


untitled
my pulse in...


TRANSLATION
the eye that...


OCCUPIED
all night erasing...


THE RECOGNITION
bird that unspeaks itself...


REMEMBER WRITERS AND READERS
toward the last...

7/30/08


mud my friend from youth
a bee's track through the air
the garnering that surrounds us
in mid-summer going on
in or out of sight

made things 
the fields made by fences
and by what is done there
the days made by actions
and by what the acts
hold within them

the fullness through which
we cannot see the whole
so full it is is what
we can speak to or
let speak through us but
will never be able to put
completely in speech

let it let it
be never to be
fully stated for
when the statement
isn't quite right
it isn't in it
at all

and at day's end
the failure completed
all night falling backward
and never a bottom

the only hope of
all this talking
to myself before and in sleep
of what has
just passed

is that if what
I left of words
in order was
like what I was left

that is what 
was meant by
enough