Speeding to Paris
in
a bullet train
gives me time
to look out at
the countryside
of Province
and other places
the day after
having been in Arles
where Van Gogh
spent years
painting
the storm within
into everything
he did
realizing
understanding
having come
in the night
that
like his paintings
all life bristles with
sexual vigor
root
of its appearance
and
continuing survival.
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