ACCOUNT OF MY DAYS

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  keyword(s) in poems:

Sequence: 1

NIGHT FEAR
you said fire...

BLUE TWEED WITH FLECKS
Help in unlikely places...

TWELVE USES OF AN ABANDONED SPIDERWEB
it can be removed with a gesture...

FOUR CHAMBERS
links the heart...

LOCUSTS, ETC.
they do eat after all, for the oak...

untitled
came to you...

BIG KILL IN THE SUBURBS
lawns smooth as mint icing...

ADOPTION
"Do you know Carlos?____ What is your relationship to him?"...

MUSING
your red sneakers get bigger...

HOW IS IT
let it be night on the Muscatatuck...

APRIL
empty play...

POLITICAL POEM
The landlord of the opposing house...

WALKING
grasshopper flight...

MEN
The sale barn: sweat, cigars,...

IMPERFECT POEM
I have nothing to say to you now...

!
You poets of the on/off guard...

OFFER
Guy in a blue shirt...

SIDE WALK
Between the streetlamps there are regions of dark. You can't...

WHY WE SAY
good...

STUDY
we took the measure...

LANDSCAPE: WEATHER BECOMING DOLPHY
evidence of high wind...

FROM THE TRAIN
Tom, when the red light blinking...

THE STRANGER
Him, the stranger walking toward you, he's the one you take...

INSTEAD OF EATING
I could take a walk I could...

THEFT OF A LINE FROM ORR
I am older...

PROPHECY
They shall be raised...

AT A FRIEND'S HOUSE
the sirens, the steps on the sidewalk,...

PORTRAIT
He comes up the street,...

MY BIRTHDAY
in the belly of night...

8/27/89
my notebook is heavy...

SHOPPING
It is important to tie your...

I HAVE NOT LOVED ENOUGH
I am so intimate...

REPLY
. . . the kind of woman who lets her ...

MY GIFT
the struggle to maintain...

HE SITS DOWN
M the cripple feels his legs unhinge,...

CLOSE CALL
Uniformed and well-armed bullies...

M THE MURDERER
That man locked in an argument with his wife, the young girl...

EVEN THOUGH YOU ARE AFRAID
The junkie looks in a window...

MY HOUSE
The bushes are growing up around my house,...

NEW TUBES
plugging in the 1955 Gibson amp...

THEFT OF A LINE FROM MONTALE
The obstinate news, the turbulence...

NAKED AGAIN
It's night and I'm naked again...

FOR SIR JOHN MANDEVILLE
I wear my pants...

IN MY ILLNESS
my thirst my fever...

BACK WAY HOME
blackness in the center of my eye...

POEM POEM
my words from black...

untitled
her head turned to one side...

THE VISITORS
they come to us mostly...

MY SON
my son never born...

EARLY WINTER
first snow fall...

SLEEPY
the fat snow...

DOWN THE HALL, TURN LEFT
my room with the standing lights...

10/5/89
Here...

WISH
my feet cold in thin shoes...

COMPARED TO WHICH
Truth is an apple...

TELEPHONE
out of the length of your hair...

REQUEST
let me borrow blindness...

SUNDAY
the big stones, the little stones...

POEM OF WATER
I want to be a different kind of water...

THE AFFLICTED
That man has ears but he does not hear...

LOOKING
between two mirrors...

REPLY


. . . the kind of woman who lets her lover touch her, first one
place, then another.  She wants to arouse his greatest strength,
then take him into her, forcefully, equalling strength with
passion.  In the morning she is drawn into herself.  This is
the time of day she trusts most, when her mind and body feel
entirely alone with each other.  Her fingers are tapered; she can
remember when she could almost see through them, to the bone.
She rests a hand next to her cup of tea, then turns it on its
back, then turns it over again.  The light coming through the
window slips underneath the table and warms her feet.  She will
be alone tonight--he will find this mysterious, he will ask
questions.  He must ask questions, he never recognizes falsehood
from the way it is spoken. One corner of her mouth lifts.  A
type of smile.  He asks many questions she will never answer;
once he even asked If you were a man . . .


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