Blank Canvas

thrill or threaten

blank canvas

invisible threads appear

reveal what it wants to be

ever changing

hand sweeps surface

too sensitive

cut

lay flat

revolve

a mark

then others in random places

in case the first one was wrong

the hand moves ahead of the brain

time to slide behind the clock

they watch my back

and cock their heads

he doesn’t have to study

just make marks all day

hands caked in charcoal and white paint

the brush gets tossed

grabbing arms and legs to shape smooth

with tar and almond caulk

pure black ink

defines instantly

then the red

wash

like Sandra

at Doc’s Pond

who said

I howled in my sleep

after we made love

it hangs in San Francisco

in a friend’s loft

i traded it for a print

of a man in the fetal position

holding a nuclear symbol