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Frank O’Hara

Episode Dear: The Letter    The reason I loved you from the first moment we met is because you seemed to hold a certain hostility towards me which I mistook for wisdom. I thought you really knew me instinctively, which is a laugh. But who’s laughing? In the heyday of our exceptional excitement with each… Continue reading Frank O’Hara

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Frank O’Hara

1 Well now, hold on maybe I won’t go to sleep at all and it’ll be a beautiful white night or else I’ll collapse completely from nerves and be calm as a rug or a bottle of pills or suddenly I’ll be off Montauk swimming and loving it and not caring where — Frank O’Hara,… Continue reading Frank O’Hara

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American Culture · American Literature · Classic · Collection · Contemporary · Poetry · The New York School

Frank O’Hara

In Memory of My Feelings My quietness has a man in it, he is transparent and he carries me quietly, like a gondola, through the streets. He has several likenesses, like stars and years, like numerals. My quietness has a number of naked selves, so many pistols I have borrowed to protect myselves from creatures… Continue reading Frank O’Hara

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American Culture · American Literature · Anthology · Classic · Collection · Compilation · Contemporary · Poetry · The New York School

Frank O’Hara

Sometimes I know I love you better than all the others I kiss it’s funny but it’s true and I wouldn’t roll from one to the next so fast if you hadn’t knocked them all down like ninepins when you roared by my bed I keep trying to race ahead and catch you at the… Continue reading Frank O’Hara

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American Culture · American Literature · Anthology · Classic · Collection · Compilation · Contemporary · Excerpt · Fragment · Passage · Poetry · The New York School

Frank O’Hara

When I die, don’t come, I wouldn’t want a leaf to turn away from the sun— it loves it there. There’s nothing so spiritual about being happy but you can’t miss a day of it, because it doesn’t last. — Frank O’Hara, from “Poem,” The Collected Poems of Frank O’Hara. (University of California Press March… Continue reading Frank O’Hara

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Frank O’Hara

Morning Poem I’ve got to tell you how I love you always I think of it on grey mornings with death in my mouth the tea is never hot enough then and the cigarette dry the maroon robe chills me I need you and look out the window at the noiseless snow At night on… Continue reading Frank O’Hara

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Frank O’Hara

If life were merely a habit, I should commit suicide; but even now, more or less desperate, I cannot but think, ‘Something wonderful may happen.’ It is not optimism, it is a rejection of self-pity (I hope) which leaves a loophole for life… I merely choose to remain living out of respect for possibility. And… Continue reading Frank O’Hara

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