[With Bandaged Ear, Oil on Canvas, 1889, Courtauld Institute, London]
The blue is in the eyes last white of seeing
only
no other world
but those harsh swirls and me
weighed down with
all the long history of paint's
flight into the way
the blood's aorta sees.
The shadows of my skin are there already
bruising their whorls into some viscous future
craving to be real
- as all that stuff crowds round -
will force itself through all the nauseous
colours into my visions,
change it to light's own
thickness and design,
as flowers sun out the truth
must work my harsh brush beyond myself.
- do not surrender
all my delights come only
for the healing and narrations
of the light -
The colour as it comes,
the brush strokes short,
expressionist, alive
(unlike Paul's landscapes
are more solid)
must break apart the wall of air
- can see -
- can touch -
vibrating in between,
bring its dark suns
unmutilated into the dangers
of its unabandoned moments,
onto the canvas' waiting absence,
sharp
- dear god don't let me go . . .
- I sold a painting once -
in my delusions
- keep this token Rachel
carefully -
can look like that
stark bandaged
with the sudden colour
of too much palpability.
Note:
Dutch Post-Impressionist. Worked with Gauguin at Arles until the two fell out. In a fit of desperation he cut off his left ear which he wrapped in newspaper and handed to a prostitute named Rachel, asking her to 'keep this object carefully'.
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Self-Portraits
PoetryThis poem is an imagined self-portrait of Vermeer. You can see the painting on the internet by typing in the information below the title.
