For Grace, After a Party

#60, Chicago, from Hardly More Than Ever by Laura Letinsky

I’m always happy for an excuse to post a poem from Frank O’Hara or a photo by Laura Letinsky. Fast Company, in this week’s New Yorker, is nominally a review of Mark Ford’s new Selected Poems by my crooked-nosed hero; it’s also a good read in and of itself.

And on account of having been given an excuse, below a poem by Frank O’Hara, one that I haven’t posted before, which made me think of the photograph above that’s by Laura Letinsky.

For Grace, After A Party

You do not always know what I am feeling.
Last night in the warm spring air while I was
blazing my tirade against someone who doesn’t
interest
           me, it was love for you that set me
afire,
        and isn’t it odd? for in rooms full of
strangers my most tender feelings
                                                    writhe and
bear the fruit of screaming. Put out your hand,
isn’t there
               an ashtray, suddenly, there? beside
the bed? And someone you love enters the room
and says wouldn’t
                            you like the eggs a little
different today?
                       And when they arrive they are
just plain scrambled eggs and the warm weather
is holding.

- Frank O’Hara