There, on a lion-pawed diphoros
Figure of Apollo crowned with myrte.
White peplos covering his breast (always cross-dressing),
Red himation warms his body, and conveniently covers
(excuse me Pistoxenos, that I point it out)
A quite over-elongated thigh,
While sandals frame slim handsome feet.
Turtle shell kithara tight in his left hand,
His right hand stretched out to feed the bird,
offering what is possibly a soldiers gut
to the crow seated at the upper branch.
Skilled Pistoxenos, but why would you draw a bottom line
to hold nothing?
Is there a crow missing from your white-ground kylix
one of those which no longer taste in flesh of men
which abandoned vulgarities of war and empty heights of art
to live by fig-a-day n'tea, lots of tea,
Much like Beckett
Wondering star on a bed of vacuum,
in a dark corner of a room-sized galaxy,
who has a landscape which can nest your love
under the mirror broken, endless wings of fall
Figure of Apollo crowned with myrte.
White peplos covering his breast (always cross-dressing),
Red himation warms his body, and conveniently covers
(excuse me Pistoxenos, that I point it out)
A quite over-elongated thigh,
While sandals frame slim handsome feet.
Turtle shell kithara tight in his left hand,
His right hand stretched out to feed the bird,
offering what is possibly a soldiers gut
to the crow seated at the upper branch.
Skilled Pistoxenos, but why would you draw a bottom line
to hold nothing?
Is there a crow missing from your white-ground kylix
one of those which no longer taste in flesh of men
which abandoned vulgarities of war and empty heights of art
to live by fig-a-day n'tea, lots of tea,
Much like Beckett
Wondering star on a bed of vacuum,
in a dark corner of a room-sized galaxy,
who has a landscape which can nest your love
under the mirror broken, endless wings of fall
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