Pollock at the Met - NYC 2015 (3)

I arrive                  breathless           finding room

at                                            extremity of massive

museum having walked past Rodin marvels

and Impressionists          floating                 on

white walls and                 stop                       in

silence                  plaque says autumn rhythm (

number 30)        and I stand back breathing the

music of the                       paint      drips      that

curve and overlap in dissonance and harmony

browned leaves rustling in gusty swirls the flat

canvas                  envelops             me in a world

of            pleasure and      pain and Beethoven’s

Pathetique plays in my head becoming aware

of            my          breathing            once      again