Sometimes I Feel I'm Vincent Poem by Alexandre Nodopaka

Yes I do.
And it's not like I listen
with one ear
or go crazy with anxiety

because I suspect
that's what his affliction was
besides a tactile fixation
with squeezing paint from tubes

and experiencing colorful orgasms
watching paint
ooze over the canvas
and it's not like I have a brother

to share my thoughts with
because I have none
or feel the way I do right now
because under my eyes

I feel the paint and the tooth
of the canvas under my fingers
and the ruffle of black feathers
cutting through the air

with their shadows on wheat stalks
gliding under a breeze
and a torrid Crystal Meth glow
and Black Puerto Rican rum.