At MOMA Wendesday Afternoon

By the Philip Guston
You stood deep in
Contemplation
For a long while while I
Blackberry in hand
Proceeded through
The arabesques
And swirls heading
Towards whatever
Next came to mind

Not long after
Pollack realized
He wasn't Picasso
You saw how he figured it out
Through a flick of the wrist
Paint thick on the brush

And in the room next but one
There it was again
An image that lingered
On the retina of
Barnett Newman’s inner eye
Abstraction made
More vivid through
The pushing and shoving
Until you stood
At the very forefront
Of daylight's parade

Then heading down the corridor
Twenty years in the making
By Rothko in contention
With failing light itself
Along the dimming path
Of a darkening palette

It was precisely then
I understood you
As a student in
In the same academy
The same impulse of light
Though sometimes
Inclined to take up
Disguise just
The reverse

With a firm grip on the brush
The horsehairs bristle with life
In a virtual reenactment of
The flowering act
You follow a genetically
Determined path just like
A bumblebee races along
The curve of light
Enfolding the tip
Of the hibiscus bud
Next about to bloom