Poetry
Slices from the paradise archive
Technicolor ancient rituals
Lay out before me
Beyond the black coffee
And glazed donut eye streets.
The walls and corridors I am led too are all painted with vibrant colours
Powder blues and electric oranges, murky whites
And neon residue on objects
Without the tubular
Reaction of gases
Becoming silver linings
And sunset blushes.
While I wear striped draw string
Pants of fine cotton that has dots and fine ornate
Lines.
And trace through the
Idols and small enclosures and waterfalls flowing through melted
Snow and
Stone henge like monoliths as
Walls
Polaroids of a soapstone seal
And a faded photograph of a Persian stone angel
In the light these artifacts
Are the reason I stand upright
My presentations are well executed
In video form
Small introductions to who I photographed
Before I even focussed the lens
And I decide to walk like a three legged animal with a friend
Through the morning streets
And laugh and not care if they
Stare at my perfectly executed
Imperfections
A wizards lion with
Broadway flare signals
Agatha patiently waits at a table in the exotica - golden light on her empty
Table top
Because her imagination is wilder
Than fashion
Or this entire exhibition
Slices from the paradise archive
Is only a fraction of the mortal
Hearts reaction to dreaming
And waking at the same
Time.
I gather myself and take my daughters hand and bid farewell
To this Folklore future
Explorer
That opened the passages
Francis A Willey
Feb 2017