Poem of the Day
Yellow Striped Pajamas
By Shamsher Bahadur Singh
walking silently on his paws, he emerges from the semidarkness and disappears into it.
Poetry: M-O
My Heart
By Frank O’Hara
I’m not going to cry all the time
nor shall I laugh all the time,
I don’t prefer one “strain” to another.
Ode to Tanaquil Leclerc
By Frank O’Hara
Smiling through my own memories of painful excitement
your wide eyes stare
and narrow like a lost forest of childhood stolen from
On Rachmaninoff’s Birthday
By Frank O’Hara
I am so glad that Larry Rivers made a
statue of me
Pearl Harbor
By Frank O’Hara
I belong here. I was born
here. The palms sift their fingers
and the men shove by in shirts,
Poem
By Frank O’Hara
The fluorescent tubing burns like a bobby-soxer’s ankles
the white paint the green leaves in an old champagne bottle
and the formica shelves going up in the office
Poem
By Frank O’Hara
When your left arm twitches
it’s like sunlight on sugar
to me and my tongue seeks
Song
By Frank O’Hara
I am stuck in traffic in a taxicab
which is typical
and not just of modern life
Three Poems
By Frank O’Hara
Dante
I could guide you into depravity but I’m not sure I could
lead either of us back out.
To John Wieners
By Frank O’Hara
You walk into a theatre in the semi-dark
a tiny stage holding up a candle
a few actors are pacing from shadow to shadow
With Barbara Guest in Paris
By Frank O’Hara
Oh Barbara! do you think
they’ll ever name anything after us like
rue Henri-Barbusse or