Van Goh

My mind is something that hides

Not casted, because

cast suggests someplace where

And so,

not for prepositions:

My mind is inside your mind.

Looking across the street to Sunday strangers

walking over steps that

refuse to leave

foot prints,

there are puddles

that

will

eventually

become steam.

In a window, when I look,

there is a pain,

and beyond it

an art gallery

the place where

you whispered “I love you”

to a woman

you’d captured perfectly in shock

and there she melted 

In colors

That we’re not blue.

And so I previewed into you,

I’d noticed two

somethings

First,

eyes,

split to strain;

an unbolted gaze,

where, darling my,

they spoke to one another:

From depths of perception,

Oh where have you been?”

The second,

my curiosity

as a running circus,

tarmac the city

as the Night

has runned red lights

as if there were

no time

for

any of it

Anymore.

So here,

Where I lament

is on this pen;

the bigger coward

than the paint brush.

Now mentioned this,

I must admit,

my writing has since suffered.

Insomnia too,

choking the brain

sometimes

pacing around

in the

empty room

above our heads,

as it corners death,

roaming the halls

of past

like

unused

hospital beds

they’d abandoned

for trash.

And instead,

instead

I find myself

again

lost in a day dream

that’s set in

the scene between scenes

and in

this very room.

A white canvas depressed

vacuums

energy into me

together

swallowing colors from the other,

we

bounce

pills

down the throat

So that I might leave this place

we call “Place” and

that you might drag me

into the back yard,

Aim your revolver,

and shoot me where

you told me to stand.

For this

is the only way

of

truth telling

the only way of

explaining

the world away

with a simple action

with a simple

fact:  

There is nothing left in art.

Life is a flicker,

a mad contagious

spark

Brushing luminous

Woe

across 

man made lines

that strain eyes

on the face 

of a framed-in boy

who stares deeper at me

as I stare back

In common

With my

tall

painted

eyes.

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