Читать книгу The Greatest Poems of Frank O'Hara - Frank O’Hara - Страница 9

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1 Yippee! she is shooting in the harbor! he is jumping up to the maelstrom! she is leaning over the giant's cart of tears which like a lava cone let fail to fly from the cross-eyed tantrum-tousled ninth grader's splayed fist is freezing on the cement1 he is trowing up his arms in heavenly desperation, spacious Y of his tumultuous love-nervs flailing like a poinsettia in its own nailish storm against the glass door of the cumulus which is withholding her from these divine pastures she has filled with the flesh of men as stones! O fatal eagerness!

2 O boy, their childhood was like so many oatmeal cookies. I need you, you need me, yum, yum. Anon it became suddenly

3 like someone always losing something and never knowing what. Always so. They were fo fond of eating bread and butter and sugar, they were slobs, the mice used to lick the floorboards after they went to bed, rolling their light tales against the rattling marbles of granulations. Vivo! the dextrose those children consumed, lavished, smoked, in their knobby candy bars. Such pimples! such hardons! such moody loves. And thus they grew like giggling trees.