some things still make whimpers in my skin

"1
he sighted her at the moment of recall.
the grass tumbled, rounded his feet like trees.
he fell. the lake! his head sank in dish of perfume.

2
now there was a severini mural outside the house
and hollyhocks, his favorite, but they wouldn't bloom
so they could look like huge chairs nobody sat it,

3
and there was a multiplicity of views;
"you enjoy everything awful because you enjoy
each part of everything not-entirely-beauitful."

4
the sobs rang out and rolled through the landscapes,
all of which you could see at the same time, dear.
like so many silvery blue discs.

5
we both have eyes, you see.
how far had we driven each other toward that mood
of the barberry bush, its berries yearly flinging thorns?

6
everywhere there were arches but we only looked,
everywhere there were dead rabbits at which we smiled, and
everywhere things seemed to be turning but not signalling.

7
i am so hideous that her many faults will dispear
while i am near, like clouds, O clouds!
stop! waste a minute of your love of time!

8
and jane is anxious.
only one things moves and it is the blue Upwards,
as the future of our faces multiplies in tears."

-frank o'hara

2004-06-22 | 6:34 p.m.
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