Even trees understand me! Good heavens, I lie under
them, too, don't I? I'm just like a pile of leaves.
Destroy yourself, if you don't know!
Frank O'HaraI embraced a cloud,
but when I soared
it rained.
Stichwörter: life poetry hope disappointment
Leaf! you are so big!
How can you change your
color, then just fall!
As if there were no
such thing as integrity!
It may be the coldest day of
The year, what does he think of
That? I mean, what do I? And if I do,
Perhaps I am myself again.
oh god it’s wonderful
to get out of bed
and drink too much coffee
and smoke too many cigarettes
and love you so much
I'm becoming
the street.
Who are you in love with?
me?
Straight against the light I cross.
As for measure and other technical apparatus, that’s just common sense: if you’re going to buy a pair of pants you want them to be tight enough so everyone will want to go to bed with you. There’s nothing metaphysical about it. Unless, of course, you flatter yourself into thinking that what you’re experiencing is “yearning.
Frank O'HaraNow I am quietly waiting for
the catastrophe of my personality
to seem beautiful again,
and interesting, and modern.
The country is grey and
brown and white in trees,
snows and skies of laughter
always diminishing, less funny
not just darker, not just grey.
It may be the coldest day of
the year, what does he think of
that? I mean, what do I? And if I do,
perhaps I am myself again.
Grace / to be born and live as variously as possible
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