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Vibrations of Color
by Michael Escoubas

The scene seems fitting
Monsieur Cezanne
in its realism—
the stand of pines reach
for completion, they climb
out of rejection's pit, they fight
self-doubt and years of self-imposed
isolation—you never fit in
with the Impressionists, yet
there burned within a fire
that wouldn't go out. Like pines
whose roots find soil in rocks
you moved the rocks inch by inch
until you became the bridge
between Monet and Picasso—
you exchanged a palette of dark
colors for Nature's soul-lifting
presence, and Oh my God, what a presence.

After Pines and Rocks, by Paul Cezanne, 1897.


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