Frank O'Hara

(27 March 1926 – 25 July 1966 / Baltimore, Maryland)

Frank O'Hara Poems

1. Today 3/29/2012
2. To The Film Industry In Crisis 3/29/2012
3. Five Poems 1/23/2015
4. Rhapsody 3/29/2012
5. Personal Poem 3/29/2012
6. Sleeping On The Wing 3/29/2012
7. Having A Coke With You 3/27/2015
8. Mayakovsky 3/29/2012
9. Animals 3/29/2012
10. V.R. Lang 1/13/2003
11. Spleen 1/13/2003
12. The Eager Note On My Door Said "Call Me," 1/13/2003
13. Song (Did You See Me Walking By The Buick Repairs?) 1/13/2003
14. To The Harbormaster 1/13/2003
15. On Seeing Larry Rivers' Washington Crossing The Delaware At The Museum Of Modern Art 1/13/2003
16. At Night Chinamen Jump 1/13/2003
17. Steps 1/13/2003
18. Song (Is It Dirty) 1/13/2003
19. Poem (Hate Is Only One Of Many Responses) 1/13/2003
20. Poem (Lana Turner Has Collapsed!) 1/13/2003
21. Chinamen Jump 1/13/2003
22. 1951 1/13/2003
23. Jane Awake 1/13/2003
24. Ann Arbor Variations 1/13/2003
25. A Step Away From Them 1/13/2003
26. Call Me 1/13/2003
27. Digression On Number 1, 1948 1/13/2003
28. Ave Maria 1/13/2003
29. At Joan's 1/13/2003
30. Melancholy Breakfast 1/13/2003
31. The Day Lady Died 1/13/2003
32. As Planned 1/13/2003
33. A Quiet Poem 1/13/2003
34. A City Winter 1/13/2003
35. Music 1/13/2003
36. In Memory Of My Feelings 1/20/2003
37. My Heart 1/13/2003
38. Lines For The Fortune Cookies 1/13/2003
39. A True Account Of Talking To The Sun On Fire Island 1/20/2003
40. Meditations In An Emergency 1/13/2003
Best Poem of Frank O'Hara

Why I Am Not A Painter

I am not a painter, I am a poet.
Why? I think I would rather be
a painter, but I am not. Well,

for instance, Mike Goldberg
is starting a painting. I drop in.
"Sit down and have a drink" he
says. I drink; we drink. I look
up. "You have SARDINES in it."
"Yes, it needed something there."
"Oh." I go and the days go by
and I drop in again. The painting
is going on, and I go, and the days
go by. I drop in. The painting is
finished. "Where's SARDINES?"
All that's left is just
letters, "It was too much," Mike says.

But me? One day I am thinking ...

Read the full of Why I Am Not A Painter

Call Me

The eager note on my door said "Call me,"
call when you get in!" so I quickly threw
a few tangerines into my overnight bag,
straightened my eyelids and shoulders, and

headed straight for the door. It was autumn
by the time I got around the corner, oh all
unwilling to be either pertinent or bemused, but
the leaves were brighter than grass on the sidewalk!

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