I am not your anchor love, I am the raging storm

by Frank O’Hara

What is more beautiful than night and someone in your arms that’s what we love about art it seems to prefer us and stays

if the moon or a gasping candle sheds a little light or even dark you become a landscape in a landscape with rocks and craggy mountains

and valleys full of sweaty ferns breathing and lifting into the clouds which have actually come low as a blanket of aspirations’ blue

for once not a melancholy color because it is looking back at us there’s no need for vistas we are one in the complicated foreground of space

the architects are most courageous because it stands for all to see and for a long long time just as the words “I’ll always love you”