Shopping by woods this snowy eve, I wonder why each word I read gets muddled up, goes quite mad. How did my eyesight get so bad? I look at poems I once held dear
Don’t write. Don’t phone. Don’t wait outside my door in the rain. Yes, I adore you. I’d do anything for you, except ever see you again. Your sorrow is so tangible
Is this one Wagner's Ring? There's a cycle in it somewhere. We'll know the show is over when the Fat Lady sings. There's a cycle in it somewhere, and the Nibelungen Ring.
Henri Rousseau Meets Frank O’Hara It’s a jungle out there, Frank. I know, Henri. Was it you who brought all this humid weather over from Brooklyn? There are tigers roaming Central