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...

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