Now I am quietly waiting for
the catastrophe of my personality
to seem beautiful again,
& interesting, & modern.
The country is grey and
brown & white in trees,
snows & skies of laughter
always diminishing, less funny
not just darker, not just grey.
It may be the coldest day of the year,
what does he think of that?
I mean, what do I do?
& if I do,
perhaps I am myself again.
Mayakovsky by Frank O’Hara from Meditations In An Emergency
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