i have never seen those things and they are just extraordinary.

(…) The snow drifts low

and yet neglects to cover me, and I

dance just ahead to keep my heart in sight.

How like a queen, to seek with jealous eye

the face that flees you, hidden city, white

swan. There’s no art to free me, blinded so.

A City Winter, by Frank O’Hara, 1951