Now That I am In Madrid I Can Think

Speechless, breathless, oh, here I am again, mooning over a poem. I will never get tired of this feeling; never will find the right words, too, to describe how all of this feels just so right, so perfect, so brilliantly orchestrated, this road that leads me to this moment.

**Now That I am In Madrid I Can Think**

*Frank O’Hara*

I think of you

> and the continents brilliant and arid

and the slender heart you are sharing my share of with the American air

> as the lungs I have felt sonorously subside slowly greet each morning

and your brown lashes flutter revealing two perfect dawns colored by New York 
> 
>

see a vast bridge stretching to the humbled outskirts with only you

> Standing on the edge of the purple like an only tree

and in Toledo the olive groves’ soft blue look at the hills with silver

> like glasses like and old ladies hair

It’s well known that God and I don’t get along together

> It’s just a view of the brass works for me, I don’t care about the Moors

seen through you the great works of death, you are greater 
> 
>

you are smiling, you are emptying the world so we can be alone. 
>

—

*This is from The Selected Poems of Frank O’Hara, edited by Donald Allen, published by Vintage Books, 1974.*