Frank O'Hara

(27 March 1926 – 25 July 1966 / Baltimore, Maryland)

A Quiet Poem


When music is far enough away
the eyelid does not often move

and objects are still as lavender
without breath or distant rejoinder.

The cloud is then so subtly dragged
away by the silver flying machine

that the thought of it alone echoes
unbelievably; the sound of the motor falls

like a coin toward the ocean's floor
and the eye does not flicker

as it does when in the loud sun a coin
rises and nicks the near air. Now,

slowly, the heart breathes to music
while the coins lie in wet yellow sand.

Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003

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Comments about this poem (A Quiet Poem by Frank O'Hara )

  • Rookie - 0 Points Cheryl Lynn Moyer-peele (7/18/2007 11:14:00 AM)

    Frank -

    'Somewhere your heart is breathing to music, and thought of it alone echoes unbelievably' beautiful for all of us.

    Cheryl (Report) Reply

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