ACCOUNT OF MY DAYS

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  keyword(s) in poems:

Sequence: 7

TRIPLE OUGHT
we have endured...

TURN OR BE TURNED
waking...

untitled
I am...

WEAK
my ill-rising...

FIRST DAY OF SPRING A BLIZZARD VISITS US
this last snow's weight and power...

BOOK OF THE DAY
a version of no corrections...

SNOWFALL
a cancel of...

HERE, YOU
valley of the powerless...

untitled
the minutes...

NOTES IN HIS OWN HAND
About the destroying condition....

NEIGHBORLY
our day...

untitled
out of the door...

JUST BARELY
here it is difficult...

untitled
quoted before I speak...

TRUE
time to notice...

POINT OUT
here is an impossibility...

COMPANY
there is a quiet before I speak...

HEARTENED
almost midnight...

IN PROCESS
giving thanks or sass...

CONTINUANCE
a face to look into for...

STRUGGLE TO UNDERSTAND
fresh tears...

PRAYER
heart made of dirt...

MONDAY
the call to remind me...

JUST LIKE ME
trying to move sideways...

HOW IT IS
the old smile...

THUNDERSTORM LIGHTNING FLASHES
the storm's welcome...

THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AT LEAST ONE PERSON
a shell game in which...

FOR THOSE LYING WAKEFUL AS IT STORMS
thunder off in the distance...

4/22/96
press of rain...

CONSCIOUSNESS
what grabs it...

CLEAR DARK
there should be...

untitled
see what...

START OF THE DAY
tight...

ADDRESSING YOU
if you are staring at me...

untitled
the strange diction...

untitled
3 a.m. an owl calls out...

WEATHER REPORT
showers and thundershowers...

NOTATION
I allow myself to be influenced. It is ...

WHEN YOU
arrive in ocean a wave arises inside you...

THEFT OF LINES FROM CERNUDA
Sleep...

10/20/96
my circles run through the woods...

untitled
held up my empty secrets...

THE FEELING OF IT
North begins hereabouts...

TIME TO GO
winter light...

A PLACE
it closes to them...

CLOSING MY EYES
as I die...

STORY ABOUT SAFETY
the wind up...

untitled
a voice in the room...

11/19/96
words rest...

untitled
clouds form...

POEM OF SLEEP
sky mists...

MUSIC
a music that makes me...

WHEN I READ
I read to keep steady...

SOS
the page shifts no rest a sea...

NOW REMEMBERING
the rain cuts...

CARRIED
I give up on my fingers...

HAWK
strong hunter...

OVER AND OUT
crossing over the creek bed...

ADDRESSING YOU


if you are staring at me
and I feel I ought or ought not
be ashamed

and your faces turn blank
to help me in case I should say
what is best kept silent

and the silence between words
is a great book of empty pages
you can write yourself on

it is our turn to live and
make something of our surroundings
what the others left behind

and what has never been touched
like the simple stones
I collect

the ones that are not
special or in any way striking
small enough to ignore

or hold in my palm
like a selection of eyes
with nothing beautiful about them

except their watching


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