Van Gogh Watches Volleyball

Van Gogh
Is lounging at
his waterside table
drinking beer
with
a Mickey mouse tattoo
set on his shoulder.
The piercing stare
of his green eyes
turned blue
focuses on the
volleyball game
playing out
before him .
The water is
a deep, deep blue
sourced
directly
from
his eyes .
His tantrum
tank top is
a delirious ultramarine
as if squeezed out
in a rounded
sharp edged
dollop
from a artist’s tube
on to his palette .
He seems quite sane
here
all in all
as he moves his head
only slightly
to the music,
drinks,
and enjoys the game.

No crows are flying here.
He’s just intense,
alone.
Perhaps looking
for ear lopping
companionship .
He stares at passing girls.
His eyes are burning
with an intense
cool blue flame .
His short hair
and tight cropped beard
finish
off a look that
brands him,
the tortured genius.
He reminds me of my
cousin ,
long departed.
He too
alone at times
was
always
loved by children,
in awe of nature,
seeking companionship
and kinship .

A talented painter
in pastels and in oils
of ancient Greek warriors,
some times Spartacus,
or landscapes ,
his eyes often said:
Old man look
at my life.
He died a much
too young
death
like Van Gogh.

Van Gogh reminds
me too
of Kirk Douglas
especially
in the movie
Spartacus .
Douglas was a man
of incalculable
passion and
intense verve .
Van Gogh could
have been a
Spartacus in the
Arles arena
had be been born
earlier
and in the circumstances of
a Gladiator,
rather than a painter .
He would have
excelled
and lopped off ears
in shows of mercy
to win his freedom.
Van Gogh
has now suddenly
disappeared
into the thin nostalgic air.
He must have dashed
out madly.
His table with empty
Heineken bottle is
left blank,
blank
as an empty
white canvas .
The
abscess
in his absence
left behind
is black,
black as the crows
that devoured him
so long ago.

From “The Black and other Base Elements” by PWChaltas