Turning Vincent

or …

A love song by request.   8/01

(I am not quite sure what to make of this poem. Most of my poems stem from rational ideas, which I try to dress so others can see; this poem owes its genesis to feeling. Oh dear!) 

Readin' Emily I see
She felt a funeral in her brain;
Something slow, morose, or grim
Or maybe like a long lost friend.
And Lord, I wouldn't wish that on myself -

Don't let me know the death of
Precious thought, or let me walk

those chalky sullen worlds,

But tonight when some hive
of agitated birds
is flapping in my brain …
Could we go for something still?
Or sober,
Could you slow this freight train down?

I see Your purple robes and the spinning stars, I see
Jelly fish in Technicolor coat
speeding by like smeared rainbows.
I feel that Titan tug of war
to codify the "will"
and wonder what it means
that Hell, should be cast in
the lake of fire…

Does some angel have me by the heal?
Or a demon by some reason
of my own design?

I see the cross
like a dagger, ripping through the ages
cutting through the cords of death, or cast
like a bridge to heaven.
I see a dying thief consuming venom,
the other, waking into love eternal

with the the throb still in his wrists

I see your love displayed
In manta rays
And manna.

But tonight--

Could You tell me that you love me

And no more.

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