Posted in Art, Poetry


His hands touch my thoughts.

Silence abstract.

Window of Vincent’s Studio at the Asylum  Saint-Rémy: 5-22 October 1889

Posted in Poetry


Expose irony
a person’s heart senses good
and remains broken.

Why wait dearest art?
It is I who seeks shelter.
Souls sweeping the earth.

Tragic the artist
who sacrifices empathy
believing the world.