Morning (Frank O Hara Poems)
I've got to tell youhow I love you alwaysI think of it on greymornings with deathin my mouth the teais ...
I've got to tell youhow I love you alwaysI think of it on greymornings with deathin my mouth the teais ...
When the sisterof your motherwoke up and blessed the daywith her one eye,when all the pigeonsin the blockprayed in her ...
Ten Christmas presents standing in a line; Robert took the bicycle, then there were nine. Nine Christmas presents ranged in ...
Once upon a time I caught a little rhyme I set it on the floor ...
On Jubilee Day the Ramsbottoms Invited relations to tea, Including young Albert's grandmother- An awkward old . . party, was ...
The whole idea of it makes me feel like I'm coming down with something, something worse than any stomach ache ...
The name of the author is the first to go followed obediently by the title, the plot, the heartbreaking conclusion, ...
Oh would I could subdue the flesh Which sadly troubles me! And then perhaps could view the flesh As though ...
Kind o'er the kinderbank leans my Myfanwy, White o'er the playpen the sheen of her dress, Fresh from the bathroom ...
When I taught Ida how to ride a Bicycle that night, I ran beside her, just to guide her Erring ...
They are building a house half a block down and I sit up here with the shades down listening to ...
Cup of Words Crystal sphere sitting Before child like statue Words of Lennon mixed In a clay Klee fish bowl ...
"Angels of the love affair, do you know that other, the dark one, that other me?" 1. ANGEL OF FIRE ...
Befriending an eccentric young woman The sole resident of a secluded Victorian mansion. She takes long walks in the evening ...
When I taught you at eight to ride a bicycle, loping along beside you as you wobbled away on two ...
My most respected comrades of posterity! Rummaging among these days' petrified crap, exploring the twilight of our times, you, possibly, ...
My father and mother, my brother and sister and I, with uncle Pat, our dour best-loved uncle, had set out ...
The hoar-frost crumbles in the sun, The crisping steam of a train Melts in the air, while two black birds ...
The last of day gathers in the yellow parlor and drifts like fine dust across the face of the gilt-framed ...
I bend to the ground to catch something whispered, urgent, drifting across the ditches. The heaviness of flies stuttering in ...
from an officer's diary during the last war I The sour daylight cracks through my sleep-caked lids. "Stephan! Stephan!" The ...
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