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Frank O’Hara

Now That I Am in Madrid I Can Think I think of you and the continents brilliant and arid and the slender heart you are sharing my share of with the American air as the lungs I have felt sonorously subside slowly greet each morning and your brown lashes flutter revealing two perfect dawns colored… Continue reading Frank O’Hara

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John Ashbery

And Ut Pictura Poesis Is Her Name You can’t say it that way any more. Bothered about beauty you have to Come out into the open, into a clearing, And rest. Certainly whatever funny happens to you Is OK. To demand more than this would be strange Of you, you who have so many lovers,… Continue reading John Ashbery

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John Ashbery

[S]o when it comes Time to depart our good-byes will read automatically true or false According to what has gone before. And that loneliness will accompany us On the far side of parting, when what we dream, we read. —John Ashbery, from “Wet Are the Boards,” April Galleons: Poems (Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 1999)

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Frank O’Hara

In Favor Of One’s Time The spent purpose of a perfectly marvellous life suddenly glimmers and leaps into flame it’s more difficult than you think to make charcoal it’s also pretty hard to remember life’s marvellous but there it is guttering choking then soaring in the mirrored room of this consciousness it’s practically a blaze… Continue reading Frank O’Hara

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Frank O’Hara

Yesterday Down at the Canal You say that everything is very simple and interesting it makes me feel very wistful, like reading a great                                                  Russian novel does I am terribly bored sometimes it is like seeing a bad movie other days, more often, it’s like having an acute disease                                                            of the kidney god… Continue reading Frank O’Hara

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Abstract · American Culture · American Literature · Classic · Collection · Contemporary · Excerpt · Passage · Poetry · Postmodernism · The New York School

John Ashbery

Somewhere someone is traveling furiously toward you, At incredible speed, traveling day and night, Through blizzards and desert heat, across torrents, through narrow passes. But will he know where to find you, Recognize you when he sees you, Give you the thing he has for you? — John Ashbery, from “At North Farm,“ A Wave… Continue reading John Ashbery

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