Abstract Art, Rothko At An Expo - Poem by Ananta Madhavan
Assaulted by some exquisite disproportion
In colour-traps which lie in wait for me,
The membranes of my faculties go numb.
Slabs of spaced pigment, loud or sombre,
Bandaged horizontal bars or bands:
This red may be an ur-electric fire.
There, the essence of a stark old plain,
Distilled in greying black and greying white -
These give no purchase to the answering eye.
Greedily the canvases lap up the light,
Yielding nothing; and yet, as hushed, I stalk
These hostile presences, chromatic acres,
Accepting all and leaving all behind,
I think I glimpse a meaning in the hoax:
The elemental disproportion is my own.
Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about Abstract Art, Rothko At An Expo by Ananta Madhavan
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.