Meditations In An Emergency

August 27, 2012 § Leave a comment

It’s as if I were carrying a horse on my shoulders
and I cannot see his face. His iron legs
hang down to the earth on either side of me
like the arch of triumph in Washington Square.
I would like to beat someone with him
but I can’t get him off my shoulders, he’s like evening.

Evening! Your breeze is an obstacle,
it changes me, I am being arrested,
and if I mock you into a face
and, disgusted, throw down the horse–ah! there’s his face!
and I am, sobbing, walking on my heart.

— from an Ode of Frank O’Hara’s

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