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Poetry: Art

M.C.'s Chrome Mirror

Holding a sphere he
Sits alone. Midday sun shines
Through open window.

Observing himself
He remembers all he sees:
Some books, chairs, and walls.

Memory perfect
It remains within, whole, still:
Those books, chairs, and walls.

So great his focus
Even the sphere's blurry edge
Is captured by pen.

When he starts to draw,
though, a flaw appears. His hand
Was glimpsed, it remains.

(See the picture at http://www.aaronbaird.net/pict ures/Escher/Hand_with_reflecti ng_globe.jpg )

Learn more about this author, Randy Pinion.
Contact this writer Click here to send this author comments or questions.


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