Van Gogh’s Violin

GOOD

Good morning, Vincent
It is early May, 1889
Time to get up and paint
Wheat Field with Rising Sun
Hurry before all the firmament
Starts to fall apart again
Right now it’s all singing
“Good morning, Vincent!”

 

YES YET

This remarkable day
Goes between
Because I paint it
With me in it

 

PERFECTLY GREAT

It would be great
To eat an apple
But there in the tree
It is perfect
Flesh covers face
Wheat covers field

 

PARTICLE BREAD

Flesh covers face
Wheat covers field

 

CLOSE-UP

My nose sticks out
      A doorknob
As my poor ear grows
Like a worm back to my head

A crack, that is my brow
And yesterday is my lips
And my teeth are rocks
      I walk on

 

MISANTHROPE, OR . . .

Shy of people
Friend to star in sky
Where am I?
In a park watching children
Play without thinking

 

PAINT TOUNGE

I cannot stop
To think

 

DETAIL

Black bites deeper
Spitting red beside my bed
Struggling through deep forest
Limb line limn time
It’s all detail! Everything!

 

HEIGHTENED WITH WHITE CHALK

Running chalk over my lips
Ecstasy directly transmitted
To grass blade after blade

 

INTERRUPT DREAM

All joy of LIFE flashes
Blinding revelation green
Simply morning, all the
Racket, all the LANGUAGE
Broken dream pours in
Nothing holds blue
Corners of REALITY
As I reach out, brush
One more tree in the garden
Under the masterful Sun

 

IT’S IMPORTANT

To put up with everything
As you get it down on paper

 

LAST PASS

Plow down the sun
Second wind, Old Bay
Last pass on this acre
Go home, go home
Wait—gold. More gold!

 

POTATO IN SKY

The back of the shed
Needs painting
What next!

 

PLYING MY TRADE

If I sit here long enough
Maybe I’ll figure out what it is

 

SHEAVES OF WHEAT

There is no stopping now
What I want is everything
And everything is arriving
At once to me

 

LIFE

Blend foreground
      in background
Temperance in the midst
      of ecstasy
Ha. Lalala. Fill up
Holes with death

 

VIOLIN

Write everything down
Throw everything away

 

SUNSET

This morning I raised my eye
And saw the stars
Had not moved
Sweet Death, my Love,
I will never lose you again