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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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