Blue Poles [Number 11, 1952]

By | 1 March 2017

I’m lost in dense bush
seeking a register
of familiarity:
the mandarin of flame,
white of bled light,
cold char black.
There’s a harmonic
of invisible birds:
lucid bell, bleb of whip,
the mimic lyre.
Son of Wyoming
how spears of tree-fern cock, here,
how a skin of clay splits
and lifts.
How hot resin,
burst from bark,
like paint, runs, and clots.

In response to Blue poles [Number 11, 1952], 1952 by Jackson Pollock.
Enamel and aluminium paint with glass on canvas, 212.1cm x 488.9cm, National Gallery of Australia.

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