The Art of David Wiley | At the Start of the Grand Canal 1 | Scene4 Magazine | September 2016 | www.scene4.com The Art of David Wiley | At the Start of the Grand Canal 2 | Scene4 Magazine | September 2016 | www.scene4.com

At the Start of the Grand Canal
1 & 2

Painting
The Art of David Wiley
Poetry

Bridges to the Arsenal

 

I've seen the low sun

 

        nodding into the night

       

        across the water

 

I've seen the saints gathered

       

        for one last laugh

    

       before turning into light

    

I’ve heard Vivaldi

 

       snapping his fingers   

           

        as he danced a jig

  

        in the Campo Manin

 

        the echoes of revelry

 

        pouring through a labyrinth

 

        illuminated by a thousand shadows

 

        every golden tile

 

        winking at the awe of strangers

 

We have been invited by ghosts

           

        to listen to the heartbeat

 

        of Byzantium

 

to witness the coming

       

        of the flood

 

to walk into the life

 

        of the past

 

to see the splendor of imagination

 

to bow to the winged lion

      

        about to launch himself

 

        into the skies

       

        above a fleet of violins

 

to inhale the sea and a city

    

         at the same time

 

to feel the polished marble

 

        where fantastic humans

 

        laid their hands

       

        a thousand years ago

 

to climb the stairs

 

        of a bell tower

       

        fashioned by a man

 

        with a multitude of heads

 

to stop in an alley

       

        where a troll lives

 

        in perfect happiness

 

to find a statue of myself

       

        at the end of a long walk

       

        through a tunnel to nowhere

 

to be kissed by an angel

       

        when all is lost

 

to find another stairway

 

        to some perfect place

 

        with a window

 

        overlooking the world itself

 

to pursue beauty and mystery

      

         over bridges and water

 

        through ancient streets

      

        without end or purpose

 

to be alive in a maze

 

        filled with spirits

 

        who peer at you

 

        from niches in the walls

 

        and make no sound at all

 

to struggle with the lives of artists

      

        who gave everything

       

         to decorate the ceilings of rooms

 

to be an ingredient

 

        in the European stew

       

        and wonder who will taste you

 

        and where you will end up

 

to be a remnant of yourself

       

        walking across the pages

 

        of a history you never knew

 

to see space and walls

 

        for the first time

 

to collect the outer edges of yourself

       

        in one grand sweep

 

to look into the haunted houses

   

        of your mind

 

to believe once and for all

 

        that fantasy does exist

 

to go into the bowels of civilization

       

        and emerge steaming

 

I want to take one of those boats

 

        to a mysterious palace

 

I want to emerge

 

        on the waterworn steps

       

        of an Arabesque place

      

        where a princess from Arbagoogoo

 

        lives with a host of devoted courtiers

 

I want to hear that final

 

        ring of your bells

   

        in the middle of the night

 

I want to know

 

        how you toiled and played

 

        how long you looked in your mirrors

 

how you became elements

 

        nurtured by the contemplation

 

         of forms

 

how you found the world

 

        standing in one square

 

        and brought it to you

 

how you  built these monuments

 

        to your incredible ego

 

how you became so tastefully mad

 

how you conquered the world

 

        in your own way

 

how you sang and danced yourself

 

        into oblivion

 

I want to know why

       

        you die so gracefully

 

        without complaint

 

        too wise to think

 

        that you are anything but human.

        

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Scene4 Magazine - David Wiley

David Wiley, painter-poet, exhibits throughout
California and abroad. A book about his work,
The Poetry of Color, is in progress.
To inquire about David Wiley's paintings, click here.
For more of his paintings, poetry and articles, check the
Archives.

©2016 David Wiley
©2016 Publication Scene4 Magazine

 

 

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Volume 17 Issue 4

September 2016

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