Now 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.
One need never leave the confines of New York to get all the greenery one wishes--I can't even enjoy a blade of grass unless I know there's a subway handy, or a record store or some other sign that people do not totally regret life.
Frank O'HaraStichwörter: life poetry nature poem city-life
I wonder if the course of narcissism through the ages would have been any different had Narcissus first peered into a cesspool. He probably did.
Frank O'HaraStichwörter: narcissism
And
always embrace things, people earth
sky stars, as I do, freely and with
the appropriate sense of space.
Stichwörter: love society people
life perpetuated in parti-colored loves
and beautiful lies all in different languages.
willow trees, willow trees they remind me of Desdemona
I'm so damned literary
and at the same time the waters rushing past remind
me of nothing
Stichwörter: poetry shakespeare othello desdemona willow me-in-a-nutshell
Autobiographia Literaria"
When I was a child
I played by myself in a
corner of the schoolyard
all alone.
I hated dolls and I
hated games, animals were
not friendly and birds
flew away.
If anyone was looking
for me I hid behind a
tree and cried out "I am
an orphan."
And here I am, the
center of all beauty!
writing these poems!
Imagine!
I love you. I love you,
but I’m turning to my verses
and my heart is closing
like a fist.
Stichwörter: love poetry heart
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