It is almost three <br />I sit at the marble top <br />sorting poems, miserable <br />the little lamp glows feebly <br />I don't glow at all <br /> <br />I have another cognac <br />and stare at two little paintings <br />of Jean-Paul's, so great <br />I must do so much <br />or did they just happen <br /> <br />the breeze is cool <br />barely a sound filters up <br />through my confused eyes <br />I am lonely for myself <br />I can't find a real poem <br /> <br />if it won't happen to me <br />what shall I do<br /><br />Frank O'Hara<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/at-joan-s/
