A Word Problem: Dove sono le lune?

Of course it starts out in another language:

All around town, the maps say
Tu sei qui.” “You are here.”

In turn logic asks, “Where are the moons?”
And the word problem turns mathematically

On the number of orbs the artist started with
(Scattering them around the city in celebration)

Minus the unrepeated number of moons we’ve seen
(Without ever tripping over these cobbled streets).

Three here in a series of thirty three, more or less,
Depending on how many duplicates I have suppressed.

That leaves me far far short of the total of sixty moons,
One to commemorate each year of the festival’s enlightenment.

Carmen, a Heartbreaker in Four Acts

From the overture on, the loveliest of melodies.
From the very first scene, a magnificent set.
Between libretto and subtitles, a dissonance.

One of those cases where, “It ain’t over till it’s over.”

The Art of Nature

Antique Architecture

Art in the Apartment

At least one definitively stands apart:

From a limited knowledge of the rest,
They likely remain works in progress.

Only a Boy’s Art on the Duomo Steps

Inside the Old Opera House

You would expect there to be a traditional exhibition,
Which is indeed what you get. At least, say, up the point
Of the carpenter’s chisel delving deep into the plywood,
Which is what you don’t see here in a translated brochure.

Some More of My Own Décollage

A treasure trove I found
On the far side of town.

Of two I am almost sure:
Yet there remain many more:

Found Art

When you are searching for art, of course,
It helps to know what you are looking for.
The family in the park could be a source
Of inspiration, say, were I a photographer.

But art, we found, can be a different sort.
Brought back to life with vibrant colors,
Branches strewn on the ground in assorted
Positions, their claims disputed by others.

Two further questions, naturally, have me stumped:
1) about this branch; and 2) about that earlier life sawed-off at ground level.

No Sign Yet of Ex Museo Civico

Which, according to our guide, could be up at La Rocca
Or, down below, somewhere around the Duomo.

Arriving from base camp by way of the moving stairs,
We stumble onto an exhibit that’s in the open air.

We know Piazza della Signoria well; have seen
In passing the paintings in Galleria poli D’Arte.

But we are surprised now by the outsider pieces and, when
We look back, amazed to find the frescoe we’ve never seen.