Tuesday, April 20, 2010

By Deaf, By Blindness Willed

Rewrite/cut-up of Ian's Van Gogh.

Starlight paints his face, and the bats
beyond the dark signatures of blindness paint
swirls in the city lights.

The oil swirls, deaf in the yellow haze.

A chair, of course, sat farthest beyond
the starlight. We all know absinthe,
and turpentine, and
if we all know Van Gogh we all know
his other half.

The bats swirl. The oil paints. The gas
limps into how we all know to describe
achievement. Attuned to his blindness,
we all know, we all know, we all

know how he willed absinthe to oil swirls.

How the bats paint yellow signatures.

How half by the beyond is but his other.

1 comment:

  1. awesome--the end is mysterious & cryptic in a great way--I love the comment that we all know absinthe and turpentine--I can smell that bitter, acrid madness just waiting to boil & overflow. it's wonderfully foreboding.

    I wonder if this would benefit from being shorter--denser maybe, iterating the choreographed movement between bats and oil paint only once (it's almost three times now)--

    there's something about the flow from thought to thought that bothers me, but I think each element is there--maybe the "other half" parts can all be grouped at the end? it leaves me with a swirly, disorienting anse of dread that feels appropriate for a mediation on van Gogh go gadget artist.

    frankly I'm a fan of both poems

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