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A HILL
      FRANK O'HARA


Yes, it's disgusting
when you lose
control, but my
wilderness is love


of a kind, no?
And the purity
of my confusion is
there, it's poetry


in love with you
along with me,
both of us love you
in the same "My!"


Yes, but don't be
scared; poetry
is intangible and
there's no purity


in me
outside of love,
which you can easily wreck
and I can lose.


Clouds pass in
my notorious eye
but you, through
all, I see.




POEM
      FRANK O'HARA


When your left arm twitches
it's like sunlight on sugar
to me and my tongue seeks
the sea of your skin, its oily
calm of green light on the floor
of the ocean
                     as in parting,
there's a flutter between us
while I haul down a flag and
you look absently out of
my heart so you won't see
what light one fears in the
sea that I don't want you
to know is of you in me