ACCOUNT OF MY DAYS

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  keyword(s) in poems:

Sequence: 14

GOOD QUESTION
why do I write all the time ...

SOME MILLERSBURG
of your own ...

8/24/05
the dusk comes out and takes the woods...

untitled
lifting a light to help itself ...

BLACK AND GREEN
on state road four you came down...

SEEN FROM ABOVE
and without the distraction of time...

GROCERIES
when you think you see...

I TELL YOU HOW TO GET THERE
and what it's like...

A LONG LINE
at night in the sky...

SEPTEMBER, 2005
huddled masses...

THIS TIME OF YEAR
walking early out ...

LIVING HERE
on this tail end of white river water...

11/14/05
my nails hurt from the cold ...

untitled
on the track made ...

untitled
I kept a ...

untitled
my cold clothes ...

OUR HOUSES
the town the fields the woods...

A POEM AS A PILE OF STICKS
poetry is where I have not been before...

ALSO
the flames sweep upward...

ON NOT SLEEPING
here on the less end ...

THE MIDDLE OF MY LIFE
when I reached the middle of my life ...

untitled
the guillotine cause and effect ...

1/18/06
the future of one day...

SLEPT
rain fed a fire in the roots ...

POEM
widow...

WET ALL DAY
this cold rain is our earth's ...

ALL DOGS TO GET NEW LEASH
wet when it's wet...

NIGHT/SEA
staring into the night as into a sea...

2/6/06
wood coming today ...

BEND
when I take in hand...

WORK
my books bend under the weight ...

untitled
of the world ...

PEACE
late afternoon...

THEFT OF A LINE FROM OPPEN
return ...

I HAVE GAINED NOTHING I HAVE LOST NOTHING
new moon sliver ...

2/27/06
our disobedient worries ...

MANY DAYS RAIN
driving carefully on ...

THOUGHTS
my second thoughts ...

THEFT OF LINES FROM KHLEBNIKOV
the gouges in the sides ...

TO MY BAD HABITS
when I see you I think of myself ...

ON MY READING LIST THERE IS
a history of funerals so well-written...

WRITING AT NIGHT
its chief object ...

5/24/06
chilly mornings with bright sun ...

WORSHIPPING (WITHOUT GOD)
hands clasped weight on the knees ...

STATE FOREST
the trail through deep woods in a long slope ...

MY BED OF ROSES
on my bed of roses ...

4 A.M. LIGHT SO BRIGHT IT WOKE ME
old moon ...

MAN OF DREAMS
dusk ...

untitled
into the war...

NOT OURS
rain ...

untitled
passion over ...

IMAGINATION IMAGINATION IMAGINATION
earth floats higher...

6/21/06
the sun at noon ...

NOSTALGIA
the rain is an empty city ...

SELF-PORTRAIT (WITHOUT MY FACE)
ambivalent about irony...

LOOKING
blue backs and forked tails ...

7/28/06
first bat and first star...

DRIVING ON THE NARROW ROAD
off to one side this open hill ...

UNLIFTABLE
under all the alasses shadowing me ...

VISIT TO THE CEMETERY
over by the road the careless ...

HOW FAR
built on the water waking ...

FIVE THOUGHTS BEFORE SLEEP
the sand the shore moved...

AWAY LIKE WE WANTED
above the trees ...

WE KNOW THIS
The dead are sleepless, we know this, they need no rest. With ...

INNER WORLD
the river rich in me ...

WITHOUT KINDNESS
on its stalk the corn flames towards the mouth above ...

NOSTALGIA 


the rain is an empty city 
each drop a building evacuated 
its stairways uninhabitted by echoes its doors and windows 
useless for keeping anything out or in 

each as it falls standing in relation to other drops nearby 
each one composed as if it were thought of only by itself 
or perhaps designed with just its near neighbors in mind 
but the many drops crowded together form a gigantic pattern 
as though this pattern as a whole was foreseen and enacted 
but each drop knows only those near it 
and nothing lives in any of them 

the rooms are empty the roofs are empty the streets and squares 
hold no one and there is no one in a hurry or with time on his 
     hands 
there are no glances no quiet agreements to slip away together 
no first disturbing signs of an illness no firm deals made 
no great bargains or agreements to buy later 
no betrayals or bitter arguments between old friends 
no one is there to love or to lean against when one is tired of 
     all the activity of the day 

in fact one is not there oneself one has been emptied as the city 
     has been emptied 
as if one had never existed as if no as if that included the 
     hypothetical possibility of one's imagined existence or 
     extinction had ever been uttered 
as if the one certainty left is a zero in place of an I 

and in such a city whose citizens have reached such a peak of 
     non-existence 
the streets broaden a little new buildings are not constructed 
     old ones fall 
through the wider spaces between what still stands a fresh wind 
     is blowing 
it parts the buildings or we should be honest the raindrops further 

the sun comes down these channels like an ancient triumph 
the onlookers crowd closer to see the chained slaves and elephants 
the sun is filling all the space now 
one can only feel nostalgia for the stark uninhabitation one has 
     lost 

standing there thinking of it crowded by the sun and all those 
who go by never having even heard of the empty city 


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