Once in Arles

Once in Arles

I want to paint, he said, like Van Gogh, like someone who
Puts windows on blank walls. If I could go someplace
Where they don't have so many rules and a lot more roses.

Each day is plodding like a carthorse down a dusty road,
My jeans and my teeshirt feel like a uniform. I need to snap
My portrait using color film standing in a summer garden.

I need to go a little crazy, sweep the cobwebs from my brain,
Hike the octane, up the output, bust the budget, be a fool,
Spill the stars like sugar on a nightblacked poppy field.

Traffic noise drips down the canvas like a summer storm,
Reality ticks its doomsday clock and the alarm
Is armed and dangerous with the force to stop him cold.

Minds can be prisons. Minds can be keys. From the spinning
Circle swells a symphony. Travel time then, and make
Imagination work like an army of gardeners in your soil.

Drop a box down on the color-shower pixel place,
Blooms assembled, infinite, plucked from space vibrating,
Metamorphosis wish achieving, and the dream.

I want to paint, he said, like Van Gogh, like someone who
Puts windows on blank walls. So I will go someplace
Where they don't have so many rules and a lot more roses.

Once in Arles by Judy Schilling




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