martes, 18 de septiembre de 2012
domingo, 16 de septiembre de 2012
Music / Frank O´Hara
If I rest for a
moment near The Equestrian
pausing for a
liver sausage sandwich in the Mayflower Shoppe,
that angel seems
to be leading the horse into Bergdorf's
and I am naked as
a table cloth, my nerves humming.
Close to the fear
of war and the stars which have disappeared.
I have in my
hands only 35¢, it's so meaningless to eat!
and gusts of
water spray over the basins of leaves
like the hammers
of a glass pianoforte. If I seem to you
to have lavender
lips under the leaves of the world,
I must tighten my belt.
It's like a
locomotive on the march, the season
of distress and clarity
and my door is
open to the evenings of midwinter's
lightly falling
snow over the newspapers.
Clasp me in your
handkerchief like a tear, trumpet
of early
afternoon! in the foggy autumn.
As they're
putting, up the Christmas trees on Park Avenue
I shall see my
daydreams walking by with dogs in blankets,
put to some use
before all those coloured lights come on!
But no more fountains and no more rain,
and the stores stay open terribly late.1953
viernes, 14 de septiembre de 2012
viernes, 7 de septiembre de 2012
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