Peirene Springs Poem by I AM THAT MOUSE
Peirene Springs
A vandalized Vitruvian
Inked and scarred
He stares at his reflection
He outlines his contours
with shadow and flex
He is not god-like but a candidate
for immortality
None dare to critique
his perfection
Perfections? Nose to the counter
My first veiw, yet oddly accepted
He is...
An Observer, a Listener, an Artist
An Astronaut?
An Addict
I suppose its a matter of opinion
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/7/2024 4:55:03 AM # 1.0.0.1119
