The Painter
I am in love with you Gauguin
as I look I feel the tender passage of your hands
I sit at your table
and no years separate our gazes
I look with an intimacy at your exposure
in paint left permanent
after the force that moved your brush has long left.
The emptiness unites,
my eye travels over orange, red, cold edges of blue,
It leaves me with a longing to know you
the heat of your gaze and edged callouses of your hands.
-By the Corbyhawk herself
2 comments:
Maybe that is why I read so many boks about the lives of writers, artists, performers and the like... knowing the intimate details of how they lived, what they thought, how they worked... is fascinating to me.
I think I am also looking for similarities in order to convince myself that I, too, am an artist with my writing.
You are an artist. Not to mention a really cool person. I love to read artist's own writings on working so I can see their own path in their art. It is cool to find such kinships in others.
-Corby
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