I am losing
the vague dread,
Vincent wrote
Theo from
the asylum
where the others
who were brilliant
in bad ways
let their
unstrung stars
loose all over
the ceiling
at night.
Various Lunatics
and Madmen,
he called
the luminaries
out of whose midst
he shone,
unhinged but hearing
twice as much,
tragic torch,
broken bell.
He wrote, Among
ourselves we
understand
each other
very well.
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