Saturday, April 12, 2014

Frank O'Hara Cento

The angriness of the captive is felt,
The apple green chasuble, so
The avalanche drifts to earth through giant air
The best thing in the world         but I better be quick about it
The black ghinkos snarl their way up
The blue plumes drift and
The blueness of the hour
The Cambodian grass is crushed
The cinema is cruel
The clouds ache bleakly
The clouds go soft
The cold  now, the silver tomb, separates
The cow belched and invited me
The distinguished
The eager note on my door said "Call me,
The eagerness of objects to
The eyelid has its storms.
The flies are getting slower now
The flower, the corpse in silhouette
The fluorescent tubing burns like a bobby-soxer's ankles
The forest sprang up around me
The geraniums and rubber plants
The going into winter and the never coming out
The gulls wheeled
The guts that stream out of the needle's eye
The heat rises, it is not the pressure
The hosts of dreams and their impoverished minions
The ice of your imagination lends
The ivy is trembling in the hammock
The leaves are piled thickly on the green tree
The light comes on by itself
The light only reaches halfway across the floor where we lie, your hair
The light presses down
The lily and the albatross form under your lids. Awaken, love, and walk
The little dark haired boy whose black looks
The little roses, the black majestic sails
"The mind is stifled." Very little sky
The night pains inhaling smoke and semen.
The only way to be quiet
The opals hiding in your lids
The pursefishers have flaunted their last
The rain, its tiny pressure
The razzle dazzle maggots are summary
The root         an acceptable connection
The rose, the lily and the dove got withered
The sad thing about life is
The scene is the same,
The sender of this letter is a mailman
The sky flows over Kentucky and Maryland
The spent purpose of a perfectly marvellous
The stars are tighter
The stranded gulch
The strangeness of palaces for a cowboy
The sun, perhaps three of them, one black one red,
The Sun woke me up this morning loud
the sunlight streams through the cold
The trees toss and plunge in a skyblue surf!
The two slept in a dark red armory
The weight must at above.
The wheels are inside me thundering.
The white chocolate jar full of petals
The wrinkled page of the sky swells

1 comment:

  1. Finally getting this is an abecedarian, grins