Aught, no. 13 (2004)

Rachel Epstein

Barnett Newman: A Walk


If it is taken as a cloth call
it a shoulder cloth, for it is single
and could be ruffled at the base.

At times it creeps
on its brown backing, at times
its brown backing threatens
the cloth to intolerance, rustling.


Simper: the aqua pierces.

Brown too clear.

Rough meeting, clear preceding,

naked start shown:

tremble in the weighted balance.


Could be a road
but the beige always overtakes, throws
its larger more dynamic companion,
tends to revolve right angles in a whirl
while it strikes —
                 comes bright down —
the author.


A journey, he says, so take
the two sides they don’t meet.

So make it a rushing, a crosswise
then blotted effort to meeting, decision

to not meet, a rough predetermination broken
by deep clarity, royal,

broken by thin, overly calm, and one
keeps butting the other.


Presents itself
as bold, lit, no sign
of recession; a conference
in a point; nothing down about it,
coolly divided.


If the halves are not quite: black
stripping down with just the edge of a halo.

The black browner at every go, the now brown
pulsing. Or did he.


Copyright 2004, by the author. All rights reserved.
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