Max Ernst
Devoured by feathers and subject to the sea, He has let his shadow pass by in the flight Of the birds of freedom.
He has left
The ramp to those falling under the rain,
He has left their roof to all those proving themselves.
His body was in order,
The body of others came to disperse
This prescription he kept
From the first imprint of his blood on the earth.
His eyes are in a wall
And his face in their heavy ornament.
One more lie of the day
One more night, no more blind men.
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