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River

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Whole days would go by, and later their years,

while I thought of nothing but its darkness

drfting like a bridge against the sky.

Day after day I dreamly sought its melancholy,

its searchings, its soft banks enfolded me,

and upon my lenghtening neck its kiss

was murmuring like a wound. My very life

became the inhalation of its weedy ponderings

and sometimes in the sunlight my eyes,

walled in water, would glimpse the pathway

to the great sea. For it was there I was being borne.

Then for a moment my strenghtening arms

would cry out upon the leafy crest of the air

like whitecaps, and lightning, swift as pain,

would go through me on its way to the forest,

and I'd sink back upon that brutal tenderness

that bore me on, that held me like a slave

in its liquid distances of eyes, and one day,

though weeping for my caresses, would abandon me,

moment of infinitely salty air! sun fluttering

like a signal upon the open flesh of the world.

The Essential Poetry of Frank O'Hara

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