If I am ever to find these trees meaningful I must have you by the hand. As it is, they stretch dusty fingers into an obscure sky, and the snow looks up like a face dirtied with tears. Should I cry out and see what happens? There could only be a stranger wandering in this landscape, cold, unfortunate, himself frozen fast in wintry eyes.
Frank O'HaraI love you. I love you, but Iām turning to my verses and my heart is closing like a fist.
Frank O'HaraI wonder if the course of narcissism through the ages would have been any different had Narcissus first peered into a cesspool. He probably did.
Frank O'HaraI'm becoming the street. Who are you in love with? me? Straight against the light I cross.
Frank O'Hara