Poem "Three Arias" [Frank O'Hara]
1.
So many things in the air! Soot,
elephant balls, a Chinese cloud
that has completely collapsed, a cat
swayed by its tail
and the sensations
of the dead that knock and collide
inside my tired eyes
2.
Down in the depths lives a little bird
that only chirps, a song of courage
and temperance; he manages a foundry
and how firm he is in grabbing things! he plucks them
from the slime and then - oh, heavens! - in a prank
he throws them into the cauldron of ugliness
and already a sunset comes naming
the poplars that, watered, only see themselves
3.
Ah, to be an angel (if angels existed!) and ascend
straight to heaven and take a look and then
descend
without being covered in steel and aluminum
glaringly ugly in the pure distances and crackling and
bursting, panting
but to be part of the tops of the trees and the blue, invisible,
in the iridescent darkness afar,
silent, listening to the
air become not air become air again
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