Guest Poet - Frank O'Hara

SONG by Frank O'Hara

 I am stuck in traffic in a taxicab
 which is typical
 and not just of modern life

 mud clambers up the trellis of my nerves
 must lovers of Eros end up with Venus
 muss es sein? es muss nicht sein, I tell you

 how I hate disease, it's like worrying
 that comes true
 and it simply must not be able to happen

 in a world where you are possible
 my love
 nothing can go wrong for us, tell me

(1960)

What I Will Say

1. She says my stomach aches because I take too much of the world in. She says I keep coughing because I smoke too many cigarettes. Both of these things are true, which means I won’t admit them. What I will say is that I wish so much I could control the kinematics of trauma, play the physicist, or the magician, find the right hat to wear, some surgical mask, that would allow me to transfer your pain, remove it like an appendix, you won’t even miss it. 2. I wish I could find a cool lab coat, create a new transfusion, one that would allow me to hurt so badly for a few hours, and you can worry about which shoes to wear. It’s true that no matter the accent, cancer cuts the same way on every tongue and it never comes out cleanly, we have to pluck it from our teeth like pieces of meat, hold it with two fingers, and figure out just what it is, and then how to deal with it. 3. This morning, it was so quiet over the Longfellow Bridge, that I could hear my blood moving, and my heart beat so damn well under my sternum that I felt guilty about it. And as my feet pressed down on the pedals, I thought of Andy moving his leg with both hands, and as my hips shifted over my seat I swear I heard my father’s pelvis cracking against a Chrysler windshield, and as I put my cigarette to my lips, I saw your mother’s mouth moving to make a joke, and when I put my hand in my pocket, I thought of the way you pull your collar down with your index finger before you pinch your shirt up by the shoulders, and as I sat down to write, all I could think of is how you’re in my gut now, and I have never been so grateful for this ache. -- (k)

Naked Thoughts

This is not about the figure.

She builds me a jail out of string, some
ball of yarn found on
the studio floor that suddenly
inspires her to tie
all the easels together, wrapping me into
this prison I'm paid to remain in

What we do for a buck. This joke
will make more sense
in a second

Sit still, be here now,
The only
freedom I have lies in my eyes
darting from one paint
patch to another, breathe in,
behind me, breathe out,
a plastic skeleton and a plastic
deer sniff at the backs of my legs.

The light from the window
washes onto my right tit and she
declares, no erasers. And then,
The mind is tense but
the hands are free
how true that is in
every other of my circumstances

I am dripping with discomfort,
muscles tense, eyes darting,
me thinking of how she would look
should she be looking at me

There is nothing I can do
to stay awake save
shoving my incisors into the skin
of my inside mouth
I bite myself to stay awake
but no blood comes
I would know, I'm the one
who would taste it. My jaw
is so strong, but my mouth flesh
is stronger, or maybe my
self-preservation is strongest,
and I wonder
is it possible to sustain
oneself on oneself?
To stay alive would you try
to drink yourself in?
I am lucky,
I think, that I am not
the only one
taking me in.
Don't worry about assigning
words, she says,
draw the air around her
to find her


---
(k)