Air

from “Three Airs”
by Frank O’Hara

3.

Oh to be an angel (if there were any!), and go
straight up into the sky and look around and then come down

not to be covered with steel and aluminum
glaringly ugly in the pure distances and clattering and
buckling, wheezing

but to be part of the treetops and the blueness, invisible,
the iridescent darknesses beyond,
silent, listening to
the air becoming no air becoming air again