| Starry Night | |
| ALAN SOLDOFSKY | |
| Published in Grand Street #42 – Volume 11, Number 2 – Fall 1992 |
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great river swirls in the skies above Arles. Vincent loved its whirlpools and eddies, its blazing spheres and milky streams . It is as if the day of judgment were upon us, the curtain torn open, every secret revealed. As if the beauty we give ourselves up to had long before degraded him. Impossible to stand close without it scorching the skin. How many of us truly want love to tear us open, to burn its triumphant thumbprint into our foreheads? The villagers have put candles in their windows for protection. Theirs is a dim heaven, monumental and consumed. The hills sway, an almost undetectable rhythm, a wave pulsing in the earth, lapping a moonlit field. The cypress in the foreground smolders, a ruin of flame beyond which the delirious wheels of Blake and Ezekiel spin above the distant, gray needle ofthe village church steeple. |
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