Frank O'Hara, "Wind"

WIND
To Morton Feldman

Who'd have thought
                                  that snow falls
it always circled whirling
like a thought
                         in the glass ball
around me and my bear

Then it seemed beautiful
                                         containment
snow whirled
                        nothing ever fell
nor my little bear
                             bad thoughts
imprisoned in crystal

beauty has replaced itself with evil

And the snow whirls only
                                           in fatal winds
briefly
                                           then falls

it always loathed containment
                                                 beasts
I love evil