A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature
for Frank O’Hara
Amazing how tired I am, 3pm a Thursday.
People keep talking to me unsolicited,
and the bar across the street is owned
by a republican draft dodger. There’s no relief
to be found. How did you do it? All that energy
and enthusiasm. If I didn’t need the paycheck
I’d never leave the house. Last night
we had drinks with my favorite poets. Today
it doesn’t seem to matter. For no good reason
I find myself thinking about Balanchine.
And then I’m wondering what Sun Ra is up to.
I know they say he’s dead, but come on.
How could death hold purchase on that man?
I’m thinking of the time I watched my wife
swimming off the North Carolina coast,
my feet in the soft relentless surf. Out there
at the end of the earth the sun would eventually
set, but right then it was like the sun and myself
would just go on forever. The sound of her
in the tide a reason to never let go.
Copyright 2017 Kristofer Collins