Canvas and Paint

(a sonnet)  
In Pollock-style with drips and drabs conversed,
With subtle flicks and strokes in pigments’ glaze.  
How numerous your brushes curves’ rehearsed,  
How deeply felt the love of squirts and sprays.  
 
What art you have, what fraught creative need,  
That drives your soul to bear its furtive frame,  
That heat and strive which soon, all sense’ concede,  
Flare out of fingers’ grace, your Muses claim.  
 
In holding back from nature’s hungry rush,  
Your softness clutch all hardness’ reach conceal.  
Till, holding back no more, all powers gush  
In perfect stains, your Muses’ flares reveal.  
 
In spent relief, the pictures soon unfold,
On canvases that your spent strivings hold.