ACCOUNT OF MY DAYS

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  keyword(s) in poems:

Sequence: 13

HAVING FOLLOWED MY HEART TILL ITS
give me...

EXPLANATION
gravity's open mouth...

THE RAIN
if it was going to happen...

TWO MEN
the man bending over sweeping dust...

10/1/04
a silence has come into the cornfields...

CERTAINTY
what lies beneath gravity...

untitled
it takes courage...

ITS USE
I turn and pick up...

WHEN WE LIVE
the world drops...

HANDS
I look in my hands...

10/26/04
while the fields are browning...

AFTER THE GREEN HAS GONE
rain through the trees...

HARVESTS AND STONE
surrounded by harvests...

FROM MY DIARY
early long lines...

FIRST WEEK OF NOVEMBER
the sky crowded with gray...

POEM WITH QUESTION MARKS
turn around at the warning sign?...

IN THE GREAT BEWILDERMENT
just as in a set of words...

11/14/04
moth so small it nearly escapes notice...

CODA
moth so small it nearly escapes notice...

STARTLED
I hadn't gone three steps before the mocking began. The bell...

LOOKING BACK
we die of everything...

TOWARDS SOLSTICE
this long night no dark...

POINTS IN THE VAST
in this dark you see...

TO DEAD PLANETS
this cold house...

MY SNOW JOURNEY
just keep walking...

LATE WINTER
my stiff legs on these winter stairs...

THEFT OF A LINE FROM STEVENS
looking up at the cloud covered sky...

HOMELAND
our inland waters slide...

SECURITY
on the way to...

2/18/05
seen from the shadow side...

CERTAIN ONES HAVE SHOWN
their heads through the dirt...

SOME EVENTS
some flakes on the way down stopped by...

untitled
what...

COLD BLUE
of the jay's back...

SIGHT
between one minute before...

untitled
that look he had...

DOWNSLOPE
the years grown...

EQUIVALENCE
in a mirror...

LOOKED UP
the dark wing...

CROWS
the call wordless...

3/29/05
the day made dimmer...

ITS FIELDS
green wing of the hill...

TO HOME
the country you came from...

THE GREAT COLLECTION
seen in weak light riding...

IT'S SENTIMENTAL BUT TRUE, I LOVE THE SPRING
branches...

THOUGH I STARTED TO SAY THEIR
I should have said...

THEFT OF A LINE FROM BLY
cold morning but he hardly noticed...

4/20/05
white hands of the dogwood...

IF GOD IS LOVE
and love is a consuming force...

ONCE AND AGAIN
the statues are not statues...

THERE
in that place...

7/4/05
the sun behind my back lights...

AFTER COMPLAINING FOR DAYS OF THE HEAT
rain and cooler weather...

IT'S TOO HOT IN THE HOUSE
I'll sweat in the shade outside...

HISTORY
once we could hear each other...

JULY
the green trees...

untitled
after rising...

SOMETIME IN THE SEASON


a shower blowing headlines past
randomness takes over anything you feel or say
while you think what is common to all?

having a throat you could say that
the need to eliminate you could ditto

the line of blowing
has its startles and surges
and you are no more still
or less blown

and could you be the possession of all
and understood by all
and if so the result of all this
being swept here and there
is you

maybe the only integrity
of the line we pursue
is its waver

how many times the weather
will not let us be
and when the sun goes down
its hole and clouds come over the sky

out of nowhere progress is being made
like a sudden drop in temperature
that comes with gusts
sweeping up trash and twisting
with them down the street