Jackson Pollock
Medicine man
Dancing cowboy
Around his canvas
Drops of oil
Like mercury
Of thee I sing this elegy
Drunken angel
Killer of girls
Killer of critics, o
Killer of convention
and bicycle baskets
Killer of girls
I had a dream
Of you and frida kahlo
Fighting in the alley
She cut you up
Diego Rivera is there laughing like a grotesque Saint Nicholas in linen pants
It was a knife fight
And she took you down
"You're your own baby," says Lee
medicine man
can't hold his medicine
a taste of your own.
But everything is fleeting
Everything is temporary
Nothing is definite
So I dream of mexico
And frida kahlo
Or salma hayek dressed up like frida kahlo
Pre-columbian beads of jade around her neck
On a dusty street I see her exquisite lines against the setting sun.
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