48...borrowing words

When you're too tired to even write or think, the best thing to do next is find other people's words that you can borrow to express how you feel, since as humans, we constantly need to express ourselves to get anywhere in life. Terribly exhausting but wonderfully rewarding when you get it right. Today, I share the work of Frank O'Hara, a poetic artist (+ former roommate of Edward Gorey), to end this post and leave me a reminder of what i actually wanted to say.

My Heart
(May 1954)

I'm not going to cry all the time
nor shall I laugh all the time,
I don't prefer one "strain" to another.
I'd have the immediacy of a bad movie,
not just a sleeper, but also the big,
overproduced first-run kind. I want to be
at least as alive as the vulgar. And if
some aficionado of my mess says "That's
not like Frank!", all to the good! I
don't wear brown and gray suits all the time,
do I? No. I wear workshirts to the opera,
often. I want my feet to be bare,
I want my face to be shaven, and my heart—
you can't plan on the heart, but
the better part of it, my poetry, is open.

- Frank O’Hara