and now for something completely different
it is 12:20 in new york a friday
three days after bastille day, yes
it is 1959 and i go get a shoeshine
because i will get off the 4:19 in easthampton
at 7:15 and then go straight to dinner
and i don’t know the people who will feed me
i walk up the muggy street beginning to sun
and have a hamburger and a malted and buy
an ugly NEW WORLD WRITING to see what the poets
in ghana are doing these days
i go on to the bank
and miss stillwagon (first name linda once i heard)
doesn’t even look up my balance for once in her life
and in the GOLDEN GRIFFIN i get a little verlaine
for patsy with drawings by bonnard although i do
think of hesiod, trans. richard lattimore or
brendan behan’s new play or le balcon or les negres
of genet, but i don’t, i stick with verlaine
after practically going to sleep with quandariness
and for mike i just stroll into the PARK LANE
liquor store and ask for a bottle of strega and
then i go back there i came from to 6th avenue
and the tobacconist in the ziegfield theatre and
cassually ask for a carton of galouises and a carton
of picayunes, and a NEW YORK POST with her face on it
and i am sweating a lot by now and thinking of
leaning on the john door in the 5 SPOT
while she whispered a song along the keyboard
to mal waldron and everyone and i stopped breathing.
the day lady died, frank o'hara, lunch poems
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it is 12:20 in new york a friday
three days after bastille day, yes
it is 1959 and i go get a shoeshine
because i will get off the 4:19 in easthampton
at 7:15 and then go straight to dinner
and i don’t know the people who will feed me
i walk up the muggy street beginning to sun
and have a hamburger and a malted and buy
an ugly NEW WORLD WRITING to see what the poets
in ghana are doing these days
i go on to the bank
and miss stillwagon (first name linda once i heard)
doesn’t even look up my balance for once in her life
and in the GOLDEN GRIFFIN i get a little verlaine
for patsy with drawings by bonnard although i do
think of hesiod, trans. richard lattimore or
brendan behan’s new play or le balcon or les negres
of genet, but i don’t, i stick with verlaine
after practically going to sleep with quandariness
and for mike i just stroll into the PARK LANE
liquor store and ask for a bottle of strega and
then i go back there i came from to 6th avenue
and the tobacconist in the ziegfield theatre and
cassually ask for a carton of galouises and a carton
of picayunes, and a NEW YORK POST with her face on it
and i am sweating a lot by now and thinking of
leaning on the john door in the 5 SPOT
while she whispered a song along the keyboard
to mal waldron and everyone and i stopped breathing.
the day lady died, frank o'hara, lunch poems
