Don’t be bored, don’t be lazy, don’t be trivial, and don’t be proud. The slightest loss of attention leads to death. - Frank O'Hara

Click here to visit Collected Poems of Tumblr, an ongoing project in which I read poems to people.

Museum Ludwig

Flags are always held by arms,
Though green, concealed
A barely visible
Overbearing force
Suspended in the pale blue sky
Before it fully withdrew
In a daily routine of ghostmanship.
“Behold the Hulk’s arm, its green paint is poison”
and hands leave faint traces like countries and mice.

Roman Ondak in 72 frames

As if
In reverse slow motion
In the picture on the left, the truck
Has flipped over
And suddenly upright reveals his practice
Of hiding an ad on his roof

Becoming a locomotive

A turn of the wrist reveals two hands

Observations grouped in frames
Do not reveal but
Show moments of revelation
Were it not that these instances untangle themselves
Become unmomentous in their passing,
You would leave them wretched and frozen
Like in a book

To The Harbormaster

I wanted to be sure to reach you;
though my ship was on the way it got caught
in some moorings. I am always tying up
and then deciding to depart. In storms and
at sunset, with the metallic coils of the tide
around my fathomless arms, I am unable
to understand the forms of my vanity
or I am hard alee with my Polish rudder
in my hand and the sun sinking. To
you I offer my hull and the tattered cordage
of my will. The terrible channels where
the wind drives me against the brown lips
of the reeds are not all behind me. Yet
I trust the sanity of my vessel; and
if it sinks, it may well be in answer
to the reasoning of the eternal voices,
the waves which have kept me from reaching you.