ARTISTS OF EXACTITUDE: AUDUBON AND STUBBS

The bird that Audubon depicted

With such scrutiny was compelled to fly

Into the static existence of the portfolio.

Stunned out of the bayou,

Each feather a perfection of detail.

Its inanimate spirit a paradox.

The horse that Stubbs bled dry

Pumped full of tallow to investigate

Its arterial and venous expressways,

Strung up on hooks and skinned

Exposing the armature of muscle and bone

Exact as chilled rage defenestrated

Upon the page of science and art.

Obermeisters of observation

Threading the needle of particulars—

Of oriental peaks or pointillist

Picknickers or watercolored wetlands.

These two seized

The heart of passion, that bloody industry.

To get it right, the object

Has to die

So we can see its

Utterness, its suspended miracle.

Rockhurst Review

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