Vincent Letra

A wet coloured paintbrush and a white house by night a landscape with a ploughman and another house beside sunflowers and cornfields and an easel down below a strawhat on a mournful face is all that we know Oil-colour-canvases and pictures in frames who asks for paintings of a guy with no name? brother can you help me I?m stone broke again tomorrow I?ll sell it all to an art businessman ard times for an artist with contrary mind scaremongers everywhere short-sighted and blind novelty was out of time boundary?s effaced it?s better to make an end than to live in disgrace Spot-painted poetry living in quandary outside a gallery derided and chased life is a lottery without a warranty dying in beggary buried in haste