Last Day In The Field Poem by Martin Lochner

horny blue yellow
hues

intensity..fleshy nerves
ticking and cocking

harassing the eyes

ejaculating the pressure
getting it out on 2 D
boards

pigments rippling, curling
out of control

carving those swirls out of
thick lumps of oil

painting
dutch fields and french skies

a humming vibration because of
humping molecules
distracting the red beard

cutting the ear off

kali dances more furious and
black crows screaming at Vincent

pinhole blue eyes looking
at the dark

buck shot his vision
blowing it away

theo his brother discovered
the vision master dead

under open skies and the
wind gently blowing through
the golden wheat crop

only for one crow that looks at
him and cawing away in flight