Instead of trying to create order in his poetry he totally destroys the notion that it exists. The natural course of the human brain when imposed upon by a new subject is to define it; categorize it, through any means necessary. After it is satisfied it throws the new subject away almost as if it has no meaning, like a child throws aside an old toy. O’Hara tries to capture these new subjects (hence his spontaneity) before the brain can mangle them into emotions defined from previous knowledge or experience to give us the importance of an acclaimed everyday event. While at the same time giving us a look at the contradictions of letting your logic or emotions lead you. O’Hara’s poetry is not a stab at the human mind but instead a celebration of it at it’s most early forming of a thought. At the center of O’Hara’s work is belief that art grants us that moment when “everybody and I stopped breathing” thus holding the key to importance of life. I would define his poem “Today” as a celebration of the relationship between the reader and the poet; what it is and what it could be.
Frank O’Hara is a poet who I feel I will never gain hold of a firm grasp on. Everything time I learn something new about his poetry or stumble upon a new understanding it crashes my old ones or just shows me that I know less and less. I find a deep connection at least between this in his poetry and life itself. He held the ability to dance on a fine line between saying something that meant nothing to anyone, and everything to everyone.