Lunching with Frank O’Hara

November 5, 2021November 4, 2021 ~ jama ~ 34 Comments

“I am the least difficult of men. All I want is boundless love.” ~ Frank O’Hara

Lunch hour! Let’s step into Frank O’Hara’s shoes as he scurries around Manhattan.

*Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers in “Swing Time” (1936)*

STEPS
by Frank O'Hara

How funny you are today New York
like Ginger Rogers in Swingtime
and St. Bridget’s steeple leaning a little to the left

here I have just jumped out of a bed full of V-days
(I got tired of D-days) and blue you there still
accepts me foolish and free
all I want is a room up there
and you in it
and even the traffic halt so thick is a way
for people to rub up against each other
and when their surgical appliances lock
they stay together
for the rest of the day (what a day)
I go by to check a slide and I say
that painting’s not so blue

where’s Lana Turner
she’s out eating
and Garbo’s backstage at the Met
everyone’s taking their coat off
so they can show a rib-cage to the rib-watchers
and the park’s full of dancers with their tights and shoes
in little bags
who are often mistaken for worker-outers at the West Side Y
why not
the Pittsburgh Pirates shout because they won
and in a sense we’re all winning
we’re alive

the apartment was vacated by a gay couple
who moved to the country for fun
they moved a day too soon
even the stabbings are helping the population explosion
though in the wrong country
and all those liars have left the UN
the Seagram Building’s no longer rivalled in interest
not that we need liquor (we just like it)

and the little box is out on the sidewalk
next to the delicatessen
so the old man can sit on it and drink beer
and get knocked off it by his wife later in the day
while the sun is still shining

oh god it’s wonderful
to get out of bed
and drink too much coffee
and smoke too many cigarettes
and love you so much

~ from Lunch Poems (City Lights Books, 1964)

*“Dancers in Central Park” by Leonard McCombe (1961)*

Continue reading →

munching on frank o’hara’s “lines for the fortune cookies”

June 23, 2017August 28, 2017 ~ jama ~ 43 Comments

“It may be that poetry makes life’s nebulous events tangible to me and restores their detail; or conversely, that poetry brings forth the intangible quality of incidents which are all too concrete and circumstantial. Or each on specific occasions, or both all the time.” ~ Frank O’Hara

It’s always fun, after a delicious Chinese meal of won ton soup, spring rolls, lemon chicken, sweet and sour pork, Peking duck, steamed sea bass, and beef chow fun, to take that last sip of jasmine tea and crack open your fortune cookie.

Oh, the anticipation as you hope for something positive: “You will meet a tall British actor whose last name rhymes with ‘girth,'” “You will write the next picture book bestseller,” or, “You will travel to a foreign land and have many exciting adventures.” 🙂

For those few seconds before I remove that little slip of paper, anything is possible. I hold my breath as I read, “I cannot help you. I am just a cookie,” or, “You will be hungry again in 30 minutes.” On a really good day, I’ll get “You have rice in your teeth.”

Nothing that helps the digestion more than a cheeky cookie.

I’ve always wondered about the people who write these fortunes. Seems like it would be a blast. You have the power to determine destiny . . . or, at the very least, make someone feel good. If you’re a poet, you can take fortune cookie fortunes to the next level. If you’re Frank O’Hara, you can create food for thought that is thoroughly charming and delightful.

Continue reading →

friday feast: take-out wisdom

March 6, 2009January 12, 2018 ~ jama ~ 45 Comments

“Hello? Shanghai Garden? I’d like to place a take-out order, please.”

“What you like?”

“One order beef chow fun, one order kung pao chicken, and a double order of moo shu pork.”

“Name and phone numbah, please?”

“Jama Obama. 555-8888.”

“Okay, pick up in 15 minutes.”

I can hardly wait! You know how it goes. Sometimes you just gotta have those thin pancakes full of fried pork, scrambled eggs, tree ears, and lily buds. Oh, have I mentioned my life-long passion for chow fun?

photo by bionicgrrrl

Wide, flat noodles are my friend. As are those white cartons and wooden chopsticks! Those little packets of soy sauce. Everything all warm and cozy in a nice brown bag. Yay! I don’t have to cook dinner tonight! Chinese take-out, you’re more than just comfort food. After seducing my taste buds with all your fine flavors, you spell out my life in fortune cookies.

Prophecies, proverbs, advice, great one-liners — so concise and far reaching — just the right crack of poetry after plum sauce. I think it would be a fine thing to write fortunes for a living. Imagine the lives I could touch with just a few words! They would carry the weight of hopes, dreams, the future, maybe even change.

What’s that? You’re hungry?

Well then, here’s a very cool take-out poem for you, full of crisp, heady fortunes you’re going to want to bite into more than once (some of them appear in that first photo up there):

LINES FOR THE FORTUNE COOKIE
by Frank O’Hara

photo by inediblejewelry

I think you’re wonderful and so does everyone else.

Just as Jackie Kennedy had a baby boy, so will you — even bigger.

You will meet a tall beautiful blonde stranger, and you will not say hello.

You will take a long trip and you will be very happy, though alone.

You will marry the first person who tells you your eyes are like scrambled eggs.

(Rest the rest here.)

Oh, I’ve written some fortunes just for you:

The lovely Anastasia Suen is hosting the Roundup today at Picture Book of the Day. When you see her, ask her if she’d like some kung pao.

Tasty tids:

The modern-day fortune cookie was actually invented by Japanese immigrants in California.

They are practically unheard of in Mainland China and Taiwan.

Frank O’Hara (1926-1966), once roomed with Edward Gorey at Harvard.

He was a music major, poet, playwright, art critic, and associate museum curator at MOMA, who died tragically at the age of 40 from injuries sustained in a car accident.

Oop! Gotta go. My order’s ready!

friday feast: paint me a sardine

February 1, 2008July 2, 2018 ~ jama ~ 28 Comments

“Creativity is allowing yourself to make mistakes.
Art is knowing which ones to keep.”
~ Scott Adams

Happy February!

Welcome to a brand new month here at alphabet soup, featuring Love and Chocolate!

I’ll be posting about things I love and eating as much chocolate as is humanly possible (health benefits, you know).

Today I’m sharing a poem about art and writing, two things I definitely love. But as any writer or artist will tell you, paintings and stories don’t just fall from the sky (though we often wish they would). There is a process — stages to go through, steps to follow, mistakes to be made.

Yeah, it’s all about the journey.

I found “Why I Am Not a Painter” by accident, and every time I read it, I smile. I’ve always longed to paint, but drawing feels like a foreign land. So I try to paint with words. I’m so glad I found this poem, because it made me realize how much the poet and the painter have in common, and how one can inform the other.

When you read it, don’t take the casual, anecdotal style for granted. There is more here than meets the eye.

WHY I AM NOT A PAINTER
by Frank O’Hara

I am not a painter, I am a poet.
Why? I think I would rather be
a painter, but I am not. Well,

for instance, Mike Goldberg
is starting a painting. I drop in.
“Sit down and have a drink” he
says. I drink; we drink. I look
up. “You have SARDINES in it.”

(Read the rest here.)