To the Untitled Works…of Mr. Pollock?

Waiting for the mood and blank canvas
To lead the hand and body

As globs of paint of red, teal, black, gold and others
Are spread across the plain surface.

It is mere chance as to
What shapes emerge.

Splatters guided by gravity
And the flick of the wrist.

Some sand to add the texture
Of a roughened beard.

Several nails, old house paint;
All to give some character

To the taped down canvas
Spread upon the bare garage floor

Rapids of a New Format

A challenge she desired
Something to get the juices flowing
Channel ideas otherwise stagnant.

Sameness breeds boredom:
Inside the box
Outside the box;
New outlooks arise
With an abandonment
Of the status quo.

Uncertainty reaches out to
Discomfort with new formats;
Change is always constant.

She now yearns to kayak
Those rapids of trepidation
In effort to see
Art in a new light,
Craft with new clarity;
Will you join her?