February 7th: Based on Van Gogh’s ‘A Pair of Wooden Shoes’.
I asked of the cobbler,
“Is it possible to craft a soleless shoe?”
to which he replied,
“You’re a thing of possibility
as tied to a body that carries.
Who bleeds what is not red
and sleeps on that which is not his head?
You ask me if it is possible to craft a soleless shoe,
and I reply, you’ve yet to walk a mile in mine.
you must adjust to this skin.”
How grand this vision of the mind
that pesters for a place
and lands in blind men’s buckets
as the stems that form his base.
How grand the height of humble hues-
the youth of blazing sun,
the portrait grazing purples,
and the beryl beads that run.
How grand the reach of failure
as the hands of watches slow
and pause on parted petals
in the fields where seconds glow.
– A. Struthers
I gaze upon the Madame
so long as admiration permits,
hoping by a small chance,
she may take note of my heart-like hands
and steady the beating of my banal brush.
This mystery, who mutes my madness
and tames the tenebrific chuckles of a feverish mind.
Imagine how richly I could paint the heavens,
if one such as her was my wind?
She, who of all women born
understands me most and yet, least of all-
a candle in my coffin
and the pull of a muffled bell.
I love the Madame as intended
which is to say,
she is too heavenly for me to wish earth upon her.
She is time outside of time,
and the kiss of an angel who smiled.
Who am I to defile this gift that was meant for the world and not me?