Digression On Number 1, 1948
I am ill today but I am not
too ill. I am not ill at all.
It is a perfect day, warm
for winter, cold for fall.
A fine day for seeing. I see
ceramics, during lunch hour, by
Mir6, and I see the sea by Leger;
light, complicated Metzingers
and a rude awakening by Brauner,
a little table by Picasso, pink.
I am tired today but I am not
too tired. I am not tired at all.
There is the Pollock, white, harm
will not fall, his perfect hand
and the many short voyages. They'll
never fence the silver range.
Stars are out and there is sea
enough beneath the glistening earth
to bear me toward the future
which is not so dark. I see.
Click here to view the painting this poem was written about:
Jackson Pollock's "Number 1 (1948)"
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Comments about this poem (Digression On Number 1, 1948 by Frank O'Hara )
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(7 May 1861 – 7 August 1941)
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(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
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(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
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