1. 13:08 14th Feb 2012

    Notes: 4

    Tags: artpoetryprosefrank o'haramike goldberg

    Why I Am Not a Painter Frank O’Hara I am not a painter, I am a poet.Why? I think I would rather bea painter, but I am not. Well, for instance, Mike Goldbergis starting a painting. I drop in.“Sit down and have a drink” hesays. I drink; we drink. I lookup. “You have SARDINES in it.”“Yes, it needed something there.”“Oh.” I go and the days go byand I drop in again. The paintingis going on, and I go, and the daysgo by. I drop in. The painting is finished. “Where’s SARDINES?”All that’s left is justletters, “It was too much,” Mike says. But me? One day I am thinking ofa color: orange. I write a lineabout orange. Pretty soon it is a whole page of words, not lines.Then another page. There should beso much more, not of orange, ofwords, of how terrible orange isand life. Days go by. It is even inprose, I am a real poet. My poemis finished and I haven’t mentionedorange yet. It’s twelve poems, I callit ORANGES. And one day in a galleryI see Mike’s painting, called SARDINES.

    Why I Am Not a Painter

    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.”
    “Yes, it needed something there.”
    “Oh.” I go and the days go by
    and I drop in again. The painting
    is going on, and I go, and the days
    go by. I drop in. The painting is 
    finished. “Where’s SARDINES?”
    All that’s left is just
    letters, “It was too much,” Mike says.

    But me? One day I am thinking of
    a color: orange. I write a line
    about orange. Pretty soon it is a 
    whole page of words, not lines.
    Then another page. There should be
    so much more, not of orange, of
    words, of how terrible orange is
    and life. Days go by. It is even in
    prose, I am a real poet. My poem
    is finished and I haven’t mentioned
    orange yet. It’s twelve poems, I call
    it ORANGES. And one day in a gallery
    I see Mike’s painting, called SARDINES.

     

  2. 21:15 23rd Jan 2012

    Notes: 6

    Tags: visual poetryproselitsusan howethe believer

    image: Download

    Susan Howe

    Susan Howe