or Living in the Shadow of Van Gogh
What does the grasshopper
Know of Van Gogh?
Did he leap into a deep dollop
Of sea green paint
And drown in the wild, long strokes
Of a master?
Did dark blue hues
Signal a cool respite
From the searing summer heat?
Did the arc of the artist’s arm
Sweeping across the canvas
Invite him to play?
Did he fly into radiant textured grasses,
Determined to chew
On the promise of plants?
Or did he simply seek to disappear
In the camouflage
Of newly imagined earth tones
Tempered by much white and light?
And only then, did he guess he would die
In this other world,
Suspended on a wall
And in time?
