The eagerness of objects to be what we are afraid to do cannot help but move us.
—Frank O’Hara
Aren’t we acting terribly pre-9/11? Someone has to smile as she comes back from the bathroom. I can’t say I’m sorry. Does she think everything stays the bloody same?
Oh, you’re here.
When you smile airplanes go off course. Thundering windows of hell will you forever speak Rudy Giuliani noun verb 9/11? Or pocket your carpenter’s pencil? Clear the room of smoke? Shit, the soup is on fire. My father is at the back door with the roses. The strange hills are still warm from the feet of worn travelers. And still the manna falls. If you were an enormous bullet you could lodge here in my open shirt. Downstairs, we scream and wash our hair.
—Frank O’Hara
Aren’t we acting terribly pre-9/11? Someone has to smile as she comes back from the bathroom. I can’t say I’m sorry. Does she think everything stays the bloody same?
Oh, you’re here.
When you smile airplanes go off course. Thundering windows of hell will you forever speak Rudy Giuliani noun verb 9/11? Or pocket your carpenter’s pencil? Clear the room of smoke? Shit, the soup is on fire. My father is at the back door with the roses. The strange hills are still warm from the feet of worn travelers. And still the manna falls. If you were an enormous bullet you could lodge here in my open shirt. Downstairs, we scream and wash our hair.