Gauguin’s rapier to sever his best friend’s left ear, The vase with twelve sunflowers a urinous Some chemical or physical insult that stained In a blue sky, the deep-saffron floor, it wasn’t Intensified by the little white tables, the white stars Of southern France that yellowed the café terrace No, it wasn’t sunstroke or the bright light The paintings on the wall by the monkish bed. On the hook by the door, or yellow the window, Or yellow the sheets in the bedroom in Arles In the Yellow House the two of them shared *( Xanthopsia refers to the predominance of yellow in vision due to a yellowing of the optic media of the eye) A meditation on Van Gogh's predominance of yellow in his paintings, in astonishing emotional and psychological detail: I saw this poem in The New Yorker a few weeks ago and loved it. My rags of heart can like, wish, and adore,īut after one such love, can love no more. Those pieces still, though they be not unite Mine would have taught thine heart to showĪt one first blow did shiver it as glass. He is the tyrant pike, our hearts the fry.īut from the room I carried none with me. To other griefs, and ask themselves but some īy him, as by chain'd shot, whole ranks do die Who would not laugh at me, if I should say (Read a more detailed explanation of the poem here)īut that it can ten in less space devour
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