Marx Ernst, The Ghost In The Abstractions Of Kandinsky

an old man leaning on a black pole,
a nude plump woman of the renaissance
inside a stomach,
a man with a big fan as face
his hands mere sketches of helplessness
pointing to the culprit on both sides
a black bird flies away
like a comma of a poem
they form a stress of a family portrait.
a hand is cut. the old man has no foot.

i shifted from the eyes of marx ernst
his eyes are shadows his hair clouds
his face a misty mountain

moving on to kandinsky he finished
life with the strokes of bright colors
and he titles it Fugue, a Black Mountain
to an Unknown Voice.

my first time to see them both.
i am stricken with the beautiful colors of happiness.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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