Having a Coke with You

is even more fun than going to San Sebastian, Irún, Hendaye, Biarritz, Bayonne
or being sick to my stomach on the Travesera de Gracia in Barcelona
partly because in your orange shirt you look like a better happier St. Sebastian
partly because of my love for you, partly because of your love for yoghurt
partly because of the fluorescent orange tulips around the birches
partly because of the secrecy our smiles take on before people and statuary
it is hard to believe when I’m with you that there can be anything as still
as solemn as unpleasantly definitive as statuary when right in front of it
in the warm New York 4 o’clock light we are drifting back and forth
between each other like a tree breathing through its spectacles

and the portrait show seems to have no faces in it at all, just paint
you suddenly wonder why in the world anyone ever did them

I look at you and I would rather look at you than all the portraits in the world
except possibly for the Polish Rider occasionally and anyway it’s in the Frick
which thank heavens you haven’t gone to yet so we can go together the first time
and the fact that you move so beautifully more or less takes care of Futurism
just as at home I never think of the Nude Descending a Staircase or
at a rehearsal a single drawing of Leonardo or Michelangelo that used to wow me
and what good does all the research of the Impressionists do them
when they never got the right person to stand near the tree when the sun sank
or for that matter Marino Marini when he didn’t pick the rider as carefully
as the horse

it seems they were all cheated of some marvelous experience
which is not going to go wasted on me which is why I am telling you about it

-Frank O’Hara

subordinate feelings i cast aside

DOWN MY BACK

DOWN MY TRACK

DOWN MY BACK, DOWN MY TRACK.

Poetry in Motion

WAYWARD SOUL.

"Adventure is worthwhile in itself."- Amelia Earhart

+++

Underside of my mind

There's a fire, do you feel that too?

And I dreamt that my soul rose unexpectedly and looking back down at me, smiled reassuringly

I miss old parts of me connected to everything and everyone that made me feel something permanently there and unforgettable. I miss one day ago. I miss complete strangers and strange places. I miss old dreams. I miss you six weeks ago. I miss us months ago. I miss every year ago. And If I had you next to me, I'd miss you already.

I want to make a ray of sunshine and never leave home

Find my direction magnetically

When I worry that my attachment to this place will ossify my brain, that isolation might kill the desire in my gaze.

I see our time expand

in the air almost forcibly,
spreading thinner till it dissolves completely

Baby I'll carry you all the way home.

I Wish That We Were Magic

So we wouldn't be so young and tragic.

A Girl Mad As Birds

Bolting the night of the door with her arm her plume.
Strait in the mazed bed
She deludes the heaven-proof house with entering clouds

Yet she deludes with walking the nightmarish room,
At large as the dead,
Or rides the imagined oceans of the male wards.

She has come possessed
Who admits the delusive light through the bouncing wall,
Possessed by the skies

She sleeps in the narrow trough yet she walks the dust
Yet raves at her will
On the madhouse boards worn thin by my walking tears.

And taken by light in her arms at long and dear last
I may without fail
Suffer the first vision that set fire to the stars.