Frank O'Hara - On Rachmaninoff's Birthday lyrics

Quick! a last poem before I go off my rocker. Oh Rachmaninoff! Onset, Ma**achusetts. Is it the fig-newton playing the horn? Thundering windows of hell, will your tubes ever break into powder? Oh my palace of oranges, junk shop, staples, umber, basalt; I'm a child again when I was really miserable, a grope pizzicato. My pocket of rhinestone, yoyo, carpenter's pencil, amethyst, hypo, campaign bu*ton, is the room full of smoke? sh** on the soup, let it burn. So it's back. You'll never be mentally sober.