Jackson Pollack
Nineteen Fifty-three
What more do they want
From me
For them
To see
If they could
See
Sun emerging
from eclipse
Blessed
Cursed
Nineteen Forty-nine
Asking questions
Still shine
For the masses
For me
If they could see
What more do they want
From me
Prime Primitive
Drip gone
To the derivate
Blank canvass lie
Mocking white
Challenge issued
Does he try
One more time
Frustrated fists unclench
Paint’s passion pressed
Greasy prime
Will work
To the master’s
Will
But will he?
Can he?
What more do they want
From me?
If they
Could see?
Questions for another day
Blind furry
Passion flows
Veins collapsed run dry
Begin to fill
With the fluid pulse
Of life
White returns to eyes
Background red
What should be said
As the flame
Rise vibrant
Call of life
Amidst the strife
If he must go down
He will go down fi
-ghting or try
If they
Could only see
Tame madness
Passion within
Birth of peace
Hide anger
Subtle grin
Jutting cigarette
He will show them
All who will win
In the end
Black balance shame
The colors bright
Bottle smashed
Glass
Fever pitch
Found way into painting
In an itch
He couldn’t scratch
Creation
Madness
Source unending
Unstoppable chaos
Erupting from the order
Of an order
Gone wrong
Stifling
Trifling
In confines
Ridiculous mad
What more do they want
From me?
Questions answered
Violent splash
Creation
Flowing undisturbed
Maniacal madman
Drowning in
A sea of passion
Perhaps one last time
Let him drink
Isolated
Alone
Let the madman march to the drone
Of his own drummer
What more do they want
From me?
For them?
For me?
If they
Could only see
*Pollock died of a single car accident under the influence of alcohol August of 1956 less than a mile from his home. The name of this poem is the name of this work.
