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Frank O'Hara

Frank O'Hara

Autobiographia Literaria

When I was a child
I played by myself in a
corner of the schoolyard
all alone.
 
I hated dolls and I
hated games, animals were
not friendly and birds
flew away.
 
If anyone was looking
for me I hid behind a
tree and cried out “I am
an orphan.”
 
And here I am, the
center of all beauty!
writing these poems!
Imagine!

#Americans

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Other works by Frank O'Hara...
As Planned

After the first glass of vodka you can accept just about anything of life even your own mysteriousne… you think it is nice that a box of matches is purple and brown and…
 1
At Joan’s

It is almost three I sit at the marble top sorting poems, miserable the little lamp glows feebly I don’t glow at all
Poem (Hate Is Only One of Many Responses)

Hate is only one of many responses true, hurt and hate go hand in han… but why be afraid of hate, it is o… think of filth, is it really aweso… neither is hate
Personal Poem

Now when I walk around at lunchti… I have only two charms in my pocke… an old Roman coin Mike Kanemitsu… and a bolt-head that broke off a p… when I was in Madrid the others n…
To the Harbormaster

I wanted to be sure to reach you; though my ship was on the way it g… in some moorings. I am always tyin… and then deciding to depart. In st… at sunset, with the metallic coils…
Call Me

The eager note on my door said “C… call when you get in!" so I quickl… a few tangerines into my overnight… straightened my eyelids and should… headed straight for the door. It…
Melancholy Breakfast

Melancholy breakfast blue overhead blue underneath the silent egg thinks and the toaster’s electrical ear waits
For Grace, After a Party

You do not always know what I am… Last night in the warm spring air… blazing my tirade against someone… interest me, it was love for you that set m…
Spleen

I know so much about things, I accept so much, it’s like vomiting. And I am nourished by the
Mayakovsky

My heart’s aflutter! I am standing in the bath tub crying. Mother, mother who am I? If he will just come back once
 1
To the Film Industry in Crisis

Not you, lean quarterlies and swar… with your studious incursions towa… nor you, experimental theatre in w… is wedding Poetic Insight perpetu… promenading Grand Opera, obvious…
A Quiet Poem

When music is far enough away the eyelid does not often move and objects are still as lavender without breath or distant rejoinde… The cloud is then so subtly dragge…
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
A City Winter

I understand the boredom of the cl… fatigue shifting like dunes within… a frightful nausea gumming up the… that once was thought aggression i… Do you remember? then how lightly…
 1
On Seeing Larry Rivers’ Washington Crossing the Delaware at the Museum of Modern Art

Now that our hero has come back to… in his white pants and we know his… trembling like a flag under fire, we see the calm cold river is supp… our forces, the beautiful history.



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