Jackson Pollock: Number 1A, 1948
Eyes follow the unity and variety
The lines spiral and we lose time in the spaces where color
Touches the mind like sticky cat hairs

Thick waves made of cast-about-oil repeat
Follow me where I take you
In and out of time
A music of Lost, found, accepted time.
Accents of Yorkshire of Pigmy or Peruvian voices aquire
visual seduction of emptiness and journeys taken

Yet time is first a protest song from the American
Delta
Is muggy hot swaying
Intimate dance 'tween two lovers
enveloped
Under thin blue lights
after, one's left pining soft with reverie
The other forgets the partner, the unity

Echo
now you understand time is something
Hastened by the variety of spaces
Bird arms chased by setting sun paint
tiny bellies swallowed by clouds
sparkling again
in song-singing their country wake-up twang
Many mornings since forever
whose? time records the technical beauty
the abstract wholeness
an essence of their song on the wind
soaring memoirs
Lost now, of course
Digesting in our contraption of time
In an era
Before we knew unity, variety and time
could be lost
history, the infant murderer

Today in my knowing
Time can be lost in this
World soothingly operated by
ticking clocks