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: 17

THE PROMISE
We live without distinction, keeping up...

RESTATEMENT
the stream breaking on the rocks...

GO TO LEONARD SPRINGS
walk past the gush and then...

WINGED HOUR
swallows' multiple flights...

PARALLEL WORLDS
one world...

I MEAN
the clocks do not tire of themselves...

DRAWN ON
now that the shadow deepens...

TO ERIC
You appeal often to Reason as if...

untitled
the stone says...

8/25/09
it was hot like this...

SUMMER IS ENDING
the evenings draw off together...

DOUBLES
there are two rocks in my woods...

9/8/09
towers and arms of the wind farm...

GHOST
what is a ghost?...

A STORY OF COMING TO AND LEAVING THIS PLACE
the crossing is marked by the feet...

untitled
when we leave...

TIMES OF SUN AND CLOUDS
morning half full of sun...

KEEPING A PIECE OF BLUE
in this wind the trees throw...

THEFT OF LINES FROM SPICER AND BOBROWSKI
the river flowing in curves...

10/12/09
moon...

AUTOBIOGRAPHY VOL. IV
we had been told many things...

OH IT'S YOU
pardon me...

BLOWING IN
trees shaking their heads in the wind...

untitled
one's thin shadow...

GRIEVERS AND GLEANERS
the grievers and the gleaners...

11/1/09
last night's moon so full...

VARIATION ON A THEME
well after midnight...

LOOKING AT A FLY
how far back to our common ancestor?...

BUILT WELL
the temples...

WHERE WE MAKE OUR HOMES
the light turns its edge towards us...

LISTEN LEARN
the flames flying...

THE GODS
when the gods remember...

ROUTINE
Every morning, coming out of sleep into ...

SHAKING THE MIRROR
I hold the mirror with both hands...

I WROTE A POEM
that's enough for one week...

BLACKWING CROW
feet tight around the branch...

ECHO
blackwing crow...

WINTER CROWS HOUSE SILENCE
winter gnawing on bones...

IDEA FOR A POEM
as it has overtaken us...

THEFT OF A LINE FROM WHITMAN: THIS WINTER
five thousand games of solitaire...

COMMENTARY
the spider is history...

WHERE IT GOES
west of the west...

ONE BY ONE
inamorata...

untitled
through all the storms as light fell to halflight...

HE TOLD ME
it won't hurt you...

THE ORDER OF THINGS
last night's flood gone...

ALL SOLITUDES ARE THE SAME
All the solitudes. Each keeps to ...

STONECRUSHER
I went back to the roads I grew up on and walked daily...

RELATIONSHIP
oh words...

TAKE STEPS
steps...

MEANS
what means love...

THE SPILL
we can talk about the spill...

THIS IS THE EIGHTH ATTEMPT
no help coming from my former self...

MUCH
the weight I had at five...

SLEEPING IN THE RAIN
drawing a circle...

INSIDE
a craving in our hands...

TIME
back and forth back and forth...

SO FAR AS I CAN AGAIN
the trees at night stretch out...

NAPPER'S MOTTO
every action requires strength...

AUTOBIOGRAPHY VOL. V
I disappeared...

8/10/10
a dry touch strokes the land...

IT WILL WAKE
the drunken species...

3/1/98


the sunday walk a path
well trod it is my legs
that made it my stubborn
way of living in the same line
that is drawn out through the woods

creek crossings hard steps
up the hill the earth gives off
a sweet smell like spring
crocus out snowdrops pout on
neck-like stems but trees wait
they wait barely budded
a fine patience to know the season

walking in the creek bottom
a noise from up high
familiar what memory stirs
peering through the feathery sticks
of treetops at the western clouds
the sound comes on what
do I hear I strain to see

then way over the nearest hill
the cranes come clacking
they do not pause they swing north
I wave they do not flatter me
with noticing they travel far
long necks legs wings fly
me admiring the unfaltering journey