Frank O’Hara

par **kenavo** Mar 25 Jan - 1:51

Fairfield Porter

Francis Russell « Frank » O'Hara est un poète américain né le 27 mars 1926 à Baltimore (Maryland) et mort le 25 juillet 1966 à Fire Island dans le comté de Suffolk.

Avec John Ashbery, Barbara Guest, Kenneth Koch, et James Schuyler, il est un des fondateurs de la New York School.

source et suite

je suis tombée sur le portrait de Frank O’Hara par Fairfield Porter et j’ai eu envie de lui ouvrir son fil…
aussi à cause de cet extrait de Mad Men Cool

par **kenavo** Mar 25 Jan - 1:52

The Day Lady Died

It is 12:20 in New York a Friday
three days after Bastille day, yes
it is 1959 and I go get a shoeshine
because I will get off the 4:19 in Easthampton
at 7:15 and then go straight to dinner
and I don’t know the people who will feed me

I walk up the muggy street beginning to sun
and have a hamburger and a malted and buy
an ugly NEW WORLD WRITING to see what the poets
in Ghana are doing these days
I go on to the bank
and Miss Stillwagon (first name Linda I once heard)
doesn’t even look up my balance for once in her life
and in the GOLDEN GRIFFIN I get a little Verlaine
for Patsy with drawings by Bonnard although I do
think of Hesiod, trans. Richmond Lattimore or
Brendan Behan’s new play or Le Balcon or Les Nègres
of Genet, but I don’t, I stick with Verlaine
after practically going to sleep with quandariness

and for Mike I just stroll into the PARK LANE
Liquor Store and ask for a bottle of Strega and
then I go back where I came from to 6th Avenue
and the tobacconist in the Ziegfeld Theatre and
casually ask for a carton of Gauloises and a carton
of Picayunes, and a NEW YORK POST with her face on it

and I am sweating a lot by now and thinking of
leaning on the john door in the 5 SPOT
while she whispered a song along the keyboard
to Mal Waldron and everyone and I stopped breathing

photo: Billie Holiday par William Claxton

par **kenavo** Mar 25 Jan - 1:52

Maïakovski

1

My heart’s aflutter!
I am standing in the bath tub
crying. Mother, mother
who am I? If he
will just come back once
and kiss me on the face
his coarse hair brush
my temple, it’s throbbing!

then I can put on my clothes
I guess, and walk the streets.

2

I love you. I love you,
but I’m turning to my verses
and my heart is closing
like a fist.

Words! be
sick as I am sick, swoon,
roll back your eyes, a pool,

and I’ll stare down
at my wounded beauty
which at best is only a talent
for poetry.

Cannot please, cannot charm or win
what a poet!
and the clear water is thick

with bloody blows on its head.
I embrace a cloud,
but when I soared
it rained.

3

That’s funny! there’s blood on my chest
oh yes, I’ve been carrying bricks
what a funny place to rupture!
and now it is raining on the ailanthus
as I step out onto the window ledge
the tracks below me are smoky and
glistening with a passion for running
I leap into the leaves, green like the sea

4

Now I am quietly waiting for
the catastrophe of my personality
to seem beautiful again,
and interesting, and modern.

The country is grey and
brown and white in trees,
snows and skies of laughter
always diminishing, less funny
not just darker, not just grey.

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.

Spoiler:

La quatrième partie de ce poème sert de fil directeur à la deuxième saison de la série télévisée "Mad Men".
A la fin du deuxième épisode, le héros Don Draper lit à son bureau la fin du poème, avant de glisser le livre dans une enveloppe pour l'envoyer à un destinataire dont on n'apprend l'identité qu'à la fin de la deuxième saison, lors d'un épisode intitulé "Meditations in an emergency". (Extrait de la postface de "Méditations dans l'urgence")

par Contenu sponsorisé

Frank O’Hara

Frank O’Hara

Re: Frank O’Hara

Re: Frank O’Hara

Re: Frank O’Hara