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Suggestions

And regarding everything, read this:

Ode To Joy
-Frank O’Hara

We shall have everything we want and there’ll be no more dying
    on the pretty plains or in the supper clubs
for on our symbol we’ll acknowledge vulgar materialistic laughter
    over an insatiable sexual appetite
and the streets will be filled with racing forms
and the photographs of murderers and narcissists and movie stars
    will swell from the walls and books alive in steaming rooms
    to press against our burning flesh not once but interminably
as water flows down hill into the full-lipped basin
and the adder dives for the ultimate ostrich egg
and the feather cushion preens beneath a reclining monolith
    that’s sweating with post-exertion visibility and sweetness
    near the grave of love
                                                                    No more dying

We shall see the grave of love as a lovely sight and temporary
    near the elm that spells the lovers’ names in roots
and there’ll be no more music but the ears in lips and no more wit
    but tongues in ears and no more drums but ears to thighs
as evening signals nudities unknown to ancestor’s imaginations
and the imagination itself will stagger like a tired paramour of ivory
    under the sculptural necessities of lust that never falters
    like a six-mile runner from Sweden or Liberia covered with gold
as lava flows up and over the far-down somnolent city’s abdication
and the hermit always wanting to be lone is lone at last
and the weight of external heat crushes the heat-hating Puritan
    who’s self-defeating vice becomes a proper sepulcher at last
    that love may live

Buildings will go up into the dizzy air as love itself goes in
    and up in the reeling life that it has chosen for once or all
while in the sky a feeling of intemperate fondness will excite the birds
    to swoop and veer like flies crawling across absorbèd limbs
that weep a pearly perspiration on the sheets of brief attention
and the hairs dry out that summon anxious declaration of the organs
    as they rise like buildings to the needs of temporary neighbors
    pouring hunger through the heart to feed desire in intravenous ways
like the ways of gods with humans in the innocent combination of light
and flesh or as the legends ride their heroes through the dark to found
great cities where all life is possible to maintain as long as time
    which wants us to remain for cocktails in a bar and after dinner
    lets us live with it
                                                                    No more dying
 
 
 
 
 

 

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