The Danger of Further Abstraction

When the top half is already taken over by the hollow

of whiteness and tonal things tried-to-do texturely,

the begging canvas needs your hands all over it,

rough lover of the fabric so-and-sos. Compulsion

is the key word in all of this tousle-bouting. As in

I’m going to beat my hands into you, over and over,

the yellows forming, the blues foaming up in your cheeks,

I’m going to ruin the space that needs fulfillment.