Frank O'Hara

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

Frank O'Hara Poems

41. Digression On Number 1, 1948 1/13/2003
42. Meditations In An Emergency 1/13/2003
43. In Memory Of My Feelings 1/20/2003
44. Music 1/13/2003
45. A Step Away From Them 1/13/2003
46. Lines For The Fortune Cookies 1/13/2003
47. For Grace, After A Party 1/13/2003
48. A True Account Of Talking To The Sun On Fire Island 1/20/2003
49. Homosexuality 1/13/2003
50. Autobiographia Literaria 1/13/2003
51. Morning 1/13/2003
52. Why I Am Not A Painter 1/13/2003

Comments about Frank O'Hara

  • Emma Poet (4/27/2015 12:13:00 PM)

    No, he is not alive. He died at forty, but he is awake, in his poetry. He cannot write you your poems, his body is sleeping, yet not, in his poetry. There he is dancing. That is all.

    7 person liked.
    4 person did not like.
  • Michael Shepherd (3/17/2005 5:44:00 AM)

    Dear Frank O'Hara,
    Are you alive?
    I've read your poems and know that you are.
    But are you available in person?
    I'd like to ask for more poems..
    that's all.

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

Steps

How funny you are today New York
like Ginger Rogers in Swingtime
and St. Bridget's steeple leaning a little to the left

here I have just jumped out of a bed full of V-days
(I got tired of D-days) and blue you there still
accepts me foolish and free
all I want is a room up there
and you in it

[Report Error]