asylum of birds
-For Max Ernst-
Forests of riddles coalesce
into castles of wax, temples of flesh.
Earthquake footfalls announce
his marching form, mashing mushrooms
crushing corn, a stride of miles
defies his trials, born for a brush and a vial.
Captured in France, a surrealist guest
a questionable bird in a factory’s nest
at the venomous Vichy police’s behest.
An artistic stance in duress may suggest
the metaphysical dance of chess.
Embracing arms of empty arabesques
release their hollow suitors.
Nightingales in bridal veils, the feathered Rubenesque
sequestered courtesans, dutifully doting
tugging at their molting décolletage
ordered by collapse of his grattage.
Colors marry form to divine the unknown
but Max’s light shines
through our cathedral of minds
collapsing our dreams
freeing clocks from our rooms.
Nightmare landscapes, blinding moons.
From The Opulence Of Invention. Copyright © 2018 E. P. Mattson, All Rights Reserved.