97. Morning by Frank O'Hara - A Friend to Tamar Yoseloff

In this episode, we are joined by acclaimed poet Tamar Yoseloff, who shares with us the poem that has been a friend to her: 'Morning' by Frank O'Hara.

The conversation, like the poem, is full of joy and delight, as well as sadness and loss. Tamar spoke with Michael and Andrea in early May 2024, and the conversation takes on a new light now, as we continue to hold Fiona so closely in our hearts.

Tamar Yoseloff has published seven collections, including The Formula for Night: New and Selected Poems (2015) and most recently, Belief Systems, which was a PBS Summer Recommendation in 2024. She’s also the author of Formerly, a chapbook incorporating photographs by Vici MacDonald (Hercules Editions, 2012) shortlisted for the Ted Hughes Award. She was a lecturer on the Poetry School / Newcastle University MA in Writing Poetry and continues to teach independently. She received a Cholmondeley Award in 2023.

Tamar Yoseloff was one of Fiona's outstanding poetry mentors, having taught her on the MA in 2022, along with Glyn Maxwell. It is very fitting that Tammy is our guest this month, as we celebrate the arrival of Fiona's own collection of poetry: 'On the Brink of Touch', now available from Live Canon. Tamar Yoseloff and Glyn Maxwell, along with Helen Eastman of Live Canon, were all instrumental in ensuring Fiona's collection was published - something Fiona knew was going to happen, even if she didn't get to see her book its final form. 'On the Brink of Touch' is a work of great beauty and immense humanity, and it is extraordinary that we are all now able to hold it in our hands.

Michael also mentions the memorial we held recently to remember and celebrate Fiona, which you can view anytime here.

•••••••••

Morning

by Frank O'Hara

I’ve got to tell you

how I love you always

I think of it on grey

mornings with death

in my mouth the tea

is never hot enough

then and the cigarette

dry the maroon robe

chills me I need you

and look out the window

at the noiseless snow

At night on the dock

the buses glow like

clouds and I am lonely

thinking of flutes

I miss you always

when I go to the beach

the sand is wet with

tears that seem mine

although I never weep

and hold you in my

heart with a very real

humor you’d be proud of

the parking lot is

crowded and I stand

rattling my keys the car

is empty as a bicycle

what are you doing now

where did you eat your

lunch and were there

lots of anchovies it

is difficult to think

of you without me in

the sentence you depress

me when you are alone

Last night the stars

were numerous and today

snow is their calling

card I’ll not be cordial

there is nothing that

distracts me music is

only a crossword puzzle

do you know how it is

when you are the only

passenger if there is a

place further from me

I beg you do not go

From THE COLLECTED POEMS OF FRANK O'HARA © 1971 by Maureen Granville- Smith, renewed 1999 by Maureen O'Hara Granville-Smith and Donald Allen. Used by permission of Alfred A. Knopf, an imprint of the Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Random House LLC. All rights reserved.

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