his red beret

with a yellow sun and a brilliant green sky,
this small village
on the Mediterranean coast of France
has blue boats and streaks of hot sand

fish in wet nets at dawn on a busy beach

deep-teal color in the harbor's water.

a tall man wearing his red beret
carries two easels,
one with tiny points of paint across the stretched canvas.

his wife sits in a rented room.

old cobbled streets

a steep hill to climb,
and a narrow view from the open window.

Collioure,
summer of 1905:

warm!

and it rained in July.

Vlaminck held the letters which he read
over and over:
the wild beasts had escaped!
one certain mustache,
unshaven,
pipe in mouth;
another with glasses the better to see invisibility.

unnatural minds,
looking without success for dark shadows
while finding light,
intensely,
vividly,

pointing to open space on a splendid line,
while the fish were eaten whole.