1. 1 year ago 

   “A Quiet Poem” by Frank O’Hara

   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.

2. Notes

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