One act (for Vincent)

But if only for fifty thousand days 

stood one continuous flow 

unmeasured uncycled or named

could not eternity speak

across time 

pigments flowed so moved

spectacular field flowers

exude sensations upon the eyes

grounded feet below 

clad in clay

time rooted Vincent

here drawing her angels

in mother's tongues he painted

dissolving each form her edges

every scene could have been 

dreaming aloud 

seeing this way 

marking rhythm as colour

staying up late praying 

it be finally good

enough 

was never 

but for angels

who sing 

starry starry night

forever

iamge: One act play  - drawing / lyra & graphite pencil / paper / 12 x 12cm  JS