He called like he usually did, his voice sexy and deep, not hysterical, which
he can sometimes get when something’s on his mind, something I have to
ferret out , burying my muzzle in the shit of his psyche.
He said we couldn’t have dinner, that he was broke and, ‘some people have
to work,’ implying something about my life.
He said that I was fine, but, ‘a little too much’ and wondered if I wouldn’t
be happier with someone more complex, more my ‘speed.’
And I said no! No! Simplicity is my goal, what can I be? What would you
like me to be?
“Nothing.” he said, and hung up.
He Said, He Said
Excerpt from a poetry reading with Harold Norse, 1986.
(c) Rob Goldstein 1986-2017 All Rights Reserved
from Poet Rummager
Caravaggio’s last painting – The Martyrdom of Saint Ursula 1610
Ah, Caravaggio, you come to me in a dream.
We both hold on to the darkness –
painting canvases seeped in sanguine.
Red is the color of my cheeks
as I blush when our finger tips brush.
Do you not see what I’ve buried deep,
has dug itself out to find me?
Feel how my fears quake
as the waking sun’s rays illuminate.
It’s light that blinds,
yet all the while pretends to mend.
I clutch fast to the shadows
and nod in acquiescence.
*Michelangelo Amerighi da Caravaggio is considered to be the greatest Italian painter of the Seventeenth Century. Arrogant, hot-headed, and extremely talented, he would cause turbulence wherever he would go. It is said that his last painting, The Martyrdom of Saint Ursula, was painted while Caravaggio bled from a deep wound to his face. A vengeful…
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from Sue Vincent
The Starry Night by Vincent Van Gogh
I never really ‘got’ Van Gogh when I was younger. At junior school there were faded prints of his sunflowers and the chair which did nothing to explain why his work was so popular. Lots of people seemed to think a child could have painted half his paintings. It wasn’t until I saw one of them for myself that I began to understand the sheer passion of the man…and I was too young to ‘get’ that too. I only understood that his paintings were exciting to look at.
They didn’t tell us about his life either… we were way too young for the real story… but when Vincente Minelli’s film, Lust for Life, was shown on the old black and white TV, I learned a bit more. Years later I saw it in colour and was finally able to appreciate what Minelli…
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