Max Ernst

Max Ernst
by Paul Eluard

In a corner agile incest
Circles the virginity of a little dress.
In a corner the sky turned over
To the spines of the storm leaves white balls behind.

In the brightest corner of every eye
We’re expecting the fish of anguish.
In a corner the car of summer
Immobile glorious and forever.

In the light of youth
Lamps lit very late.
The first one shows its breasts that red insects are killing.

2 thoughts on “Max Ernst

  1. Poem of antifascist French poet Eluard on the German Ernst,an experimental artist both speaking to us with psychological
    intensity and density of art overpowering the repressed
    feelings with Freudian overtones of an imagined life of a person as objet d’art with a selfless imagination.

  2. I’ve heard of painters painting themselves into a corner but not writers writing themselves into one. Lol. Loved the personification throughout the poem and the use of dynamic imagery. I’m curious as to Eluard wrote this poem from looking at Max Ernst or Max Ernst’s works. Perhaps the two are indistinguishable?

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