Vincent, come and tell me what to say.
I am afraid.
The beauty startled me
so I came back to capture it.
Bring your brush-sickle
and lop off that bale like an ear.
Forgive me for projecting on you.
It’s not words, but my words
that lie like straw gleanings
through the stubble.
I thought of you first
to show me how stroke texture
and vibrancy with syllables.
You were self inflicted,
but your brush with faith
incited you to a beauty beyond
and you welcomed me
to whisper by your left lobe
“I see it too.”
Oil my word economy
and layer it in gobs
as age and color magnify.
Image taken from my iPhone.
This is a print of Vincent’s
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Jerry, I always feel blessed by your use of words and walk away thinking, “Wow! I wish I could write like that!” Awesome as always!
Thanks for stopping by Lisa. Blessings!
love this jerry… been thinking quite a bit about him and his struggles since i visited the museum, never would’ve thought that he had such a fragile mentality and health.. yes… you don’t see it in his paintings, he captured the beauty.. did you know that at some point he worked as a preacher for the mining people?
jerry…. just started watching the video dfb recommended…it’s awesome… http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xir2M0cM9v4