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

Frank O’Hara

Jane Awake The opals hiding your lids as you sleep, as you ride ponies mysteriously, spring to bloom like the blue flowers of autumn each nine o’clock. And curls tumble languorously towards the yawning rubber band, tan, your hand pressing all that riotous black sleep into the quiet form of daylight and its sunny disregard… Continue reading Frank O’Hara

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