Scan barcode
merchantivory's review against another edition
i am the least difficult of men. all i want is boundless love.
spacestationtrustfund's review against another edition
3.0
Frank O'Hara said: "My quietness has a man in it, he is transparent / and he carries me quietly, like a gondola, through the streets."
daysreads's review
4.0
My two favorites from this collection where "Try! Try!" and "A True Account of Talking to the Sun on Fire Island."
painauchocolat's review against another edition
5.0
Kind of f*cked up and also wonderful that Frank O'Hara can say so much in three words that another person can't say in thirty thousand. I screenshot the poems about sadness and spleens and wanting all the love in the world. But I'll share the one closest to joy, because we all need more of that these days.
"Today"
Oh! kangaroos, sequins, chocolate sodas!
You really are beautiful! Pearls,
harmonicas, jujubes, aspirins! all
the stuff they’ve always talked about
still makes a poem a surprise!
These things are with us every day
even on beachheads and biers. They
do have meaning. They’re strong as rocks.
"Today"
Oh! kangaroos, sequins, chocolate sodas!
You really are beautiful! Pearls,
harmonicas, jujubes, aspirins! all
the stuff they’ve always talked about
still makes a poem a surprise!
These things are with us every day
even on beachheads and biers. They
do have meaning. They’re strong as rocks.
rebeccaalexis's review against another edition
5.0
I have this revolting fantasy where I gift someone a copy of this collection, or some Frank O'Hara collection (likely his completed work), and I write on that blank first page that I always think of them when I read, specifically, "For Grace, After a Party," "Having a Coke with You," and "Morning."
but there exists no such person as of right now.
in that fantasy, we laugh at, "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." 'cause how can you write a line so vivid and real... about scrambled eggs? and in that same fantasy, I am blazing a tirade while thinking of them, and I think we're in Paris, and they're on the balcony behind long, flowing white curtains towel-drying their hair while I read about how Frank O'Hara wishes he were in Paris, not New York, and I read "Having a Coke with You," having already been to those places, and maybe I'll read "Morning," as well.
but, for now, I am reading the "Selected Poems", not the complete collection. I think I have to save that for when I do meet such a person. I think this person reads, as well- hopefully they'll appreciate the collection I'll gift them. Of course, they read poetry, because we'll talk about how O'Hara is one of the few gorgeously whimsical poets with comedic integrity that can format his work properly, too. And they'll understand. I'd like to believe they have some poet I don't know in mind for someone like me. This is all very personal and private. This stays between us but- I have only ever loved someone who reads poetry once- and I do think of that person every time I read that one select poet's work. Every time I seek out that poet or that [redacted] bot shows up on my Twitter timeline, I do always think of them, as though, despite it being written long before us, it was written belonging to our names.
for now, I'm reading the "Selected Poems" and putting the complete collection on hold for a different, future time. maybe you'll read this and see I have marked it "Read", finally, and rated it, and I'll have some beautiful story to tell you in the review.
for now, there aren't enough stars for how O'Hara's work makes me feel- longing for some distant feeling; feeling like I'm reeling around New York; wishing I was reeling around Paris; wishing, maybe, I wasn't reeling at all.
but there exists no such person as of right now.
in that fantasy, we laugh at, "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." 'cause how can you write a line so vivid and real... about scrambled eggs? and in that same fantasy, I am blazing a tirade while thinking of them, and I think we're in Paris, and they're on the balcony behind long, flowing white curtains towel-drying their hair while I read about how Frank O'Hara wishes he were in Paris, not New York, and I read "Having a Coke with You," having already been to those places, and maybe I'll read "Morning," as well.
but, for now, I am reading the "Selected Poems", not the complete collection. I think I have to save that for when I do meet such a person. I think this person reads, as well- hopefully they'll appreciate the collection I'll gift them. Of course, they read poetry, because we'll talk about how O'Hara is one of the few gorgeously whimsical poets with comedic integrity that can format his work properly, too. And they'll understand. I'd like to believe they have some poet I don't know in mind for someone like me. This is all very personal and private. This stays between us but- I have only ever loved someone who reads poetry once- and I do think of that person every time I read that one select poet's work. Every time I seek out that poet or that [redacted] bot shows up on my Twitter timeline, I do always think of them, as though, despite it being written long before us, it was written belonging to our names.
for now, I'm reading the "Selected Poems" and putting the complete collection on hold for a different, future time. maybe you'll read this and see I have marked it "Read", finally, and rated it, and I'll have some beautiful story to tell you in the review.
for now, there aren't enough stars for how O'Hara's work makes me feel- longing for some distant feeling; feeling like I'm reeling around New York; wishing I was reeling around Paris; wishing, maybe, I wasn't reeling at all.
emmkayt's review
3.0
There were a handful of poems and portions of poems that took my breath away. Gorgeous imagery and turns of phrase and feeling. I really am not into all the poems about O'Hara and his cool friends at cool parties in places I don't know though - my eyes often glazed over. Regarding those poems, the introduction compares him to Alexander Pope (though obviously in a mid-20th century NYC kind of way), and, well, yes, but to me that's not a recommendation.
annie123's review against another edition
5.0
“i wouldn’t want to be faster or greener than now if you were with me o you,
were the best of all my days”
“it may be the coldest day of the year, what does he think of that? i mean, what do i? and if i do, perhaps i am myself again”
“and the portrait show seems to have no faces in it at all, just paint,
you suddenly wonder why in the world anyone ever did them,
i look at you and i would rather look at you than all the portraits in the world,
except for possibly ‘polish rider’ occasionally and anyway it’s in the Frick,
which thank heavens you haven’t gone to yet so we can go together for the first time”
wow!!!
were the best of all my days”
“it may be the coldest day of the year, what does he think of that? i mean, what do i? and if i do, perhaps i am myself again”
“and the portrait show seems to have no faces in it at all, just paint,
you suddenly wonder why in the world anyone ever did them,
i look at you and i would rather look at you than all the portraits in the world,
except for possibly ‘polish rider’ occasionally and anyway it’s in the Frick,
which thank heavens you haven’t gone to yet so we can go together for the first time”
wow!!!
camille_fatalfloor's review against another edition
funny
lighthearted
reflective
medium-paced
5.0
by turns wry, exuberant, reflective, witty and self deprecating... i fucking love frank o'hara