ACCOUNT OF MY DAYS

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Sequence: 2

12/20/89
Armor and...

PERSONAL APPEARANCE BY THE AUTHOR
I didn't shave or comb my hair this morning. The long coat...

untitled
aching a little...

DAYS BEFORE
the killer's mother is coming...

NIGHT CREATURES
under the devious arch of the night...

AUTOBIOGRAPHY
first I died...

untitled
When I lift my hands do not pull back,...

untitled
Here you are beside me...

untitled
you were leaping from roof to roof...

CONVERSATIONS
arguing about suicide...

I SAW
things...

untitled
putting the beach out...

WRITING ON A MIRROR
my pen is red it sinks into my hand...

PEARL STREET
I love him singing...

I TRY BUT
you won't leave me alone...

untitled
the better I did...

LAMENT
Is now the time to praise...

I COULD FALL OVER
Always losing patience with...

11 ARGUMENTS
I insist on the rightness of my thoughts....

POEM ENDING WITH MY NAME
I watch TV....

untitled
spring loosens up her veins...

AN AFTERNOON
A girl and a boy were walking through a forest of apple...

THE NEW REPUBLIC
a conspiracy against time...

BELIEVING IN A HIDDEN ENEMY
I went up the stairs in the dark....

THOUGHT
Who's behind...

untitled
I will marry my blear eye to a blind eye...

I SUBMIT TO THE DOCTORS
with starved breath...

SUGGESTION
Let the poets die...

WALK WITH FLOWERS
chamomile with their secret of sleep...

FIVE SEASONS
King Curtis blows his...

SKETCH
In the dark the boy...

ON THE OTHER HAND
now that I'm dying...

ON ONE HAND
the mark a cat's claw...

ANOTHER OCTOBER: McCORMICK'S CREEK
upstream stone blocks back the water up...

COMING CLEAN (WITHOUT LOVE)
Cows bellering on their feet....

WAITING FOR THE EARTHQUAKE
the dead who can...

ME AND MY BIRD
The water is round...

SENTENCE
A restaurant where you are left alone...

MYTH
Everyone is shouting...

RETURNING THANKS AFTER EATING
I know I'm out...

SEQUENCE OF DESIRE
wanting to stop smoking...

HOME JOURNAL
I forget...

HERE BEGINS THE POEM OF MY LEFT HAND
My left hand is a child...

HE SAID
everything mastered him...

BRIGHT METAL FRAIL REED
my breath loves to narrow itself...

DEVOTION
the moan bird is soaring...

NOCTURNE
I am waiting...

SCHOOL
I love him in his smelly pants...

1/14/91
Starting the blood...

REPORT
when I say...

TWO SENTENCES
And as for the rest of it: no, I don't believe we should ever...

CHARACTERISTICS OF A DOOR
with a thumbtack for an eye...

DESTINATION
after it is long since dark...

NEW BREATH IN ME
you are clouds...

THE UNLOVED BELOVED
"The Unloved Beloved" is written by the crazy son of the man...

AGAINST REPRISALS
a well cut jacket of despair...



THE UNLOVED BELOVED


"The Unloved Beloved" is written by the crazy son of the man
who teaches the masculine arts in the back of his hardware
store.  Everybody takes his classes, for he never shames his
students for their difficulties. He even forgives the one
who stole a Winchester propped against a wall in the rain
with a "please don't steal me" sign on it.  He needs help.
His fishing lines are tangled, and he wants reassurance about
his son, who is supposed to be good at what he does, though
his father does not understand.  What the man seeks from the
thief is confirmation that his son does well, that he is famous,
which is the kind of information only a thief would have.  The
man and the thief walk downstairs together, not where the police
can see them but behind all the activity in the store and mer-
cifully far away from the other students.  "He takes up a lot
of space," the thief says. "I mean, more than just his own."
He wants the man to be pleased, but he has never understood
such men, and he fears his comment will be taken poorly, so the
thief turns to the man and smiles and tries to make a joke of it.
He must not piss off the one man who could explain him to himself
in such a way that he could see he is not a thief, that what he's
done is entirely acceptable to the teacher of masculine arts.


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