Francesca Woodman

Spun in nautilus shadows,
reared back into small
spiral smears of misty flesh
with eyes rolling
behind world’s luminous smile;
behind you.
Her image, a motif;
a bowl, a glove,
a bird, a mirror;
Her breasts ablaze
in spilling light
oozing onto the
lead grey tones
sweeping where corpse
or ghost host whims
of gothic admiration.
I am soaked in surreal blurs.
Her’s is a white vapor
permeating paranormal plains.
Shudder exploits,
evoking subtle pain,
bathing nude in silky dust.
Embrace of disintegrating
ruins and rustic
neutral haze, silver
burnishes, washing
her blazing heart,
leaving passions
actively spiraling
into the eclectic underground
forever six feet
above where she lay.


12 responses

  1. Pingback: Release | To Create…

    • I am grateful for those words. We both have LL to thank for the point. Woodman’s works are much more haunting while they are filled with intrigue for what can’t be known. Perhaps the very intrigue that lured her to voluntarily take her life.

  2. Wow! What the writers’ group said was true– you are an amazing poet! I especially loved the two words ‘behind you’. Gave me chills. It was great meeting you and you definitely have a wonderful gift!

    • Jill!! I so abused the 24hr. rule. Please forgive me. It is only because I was so flattered by your comment, I wasn’t sure how to respond. — needed some time to absorb the prestigious compliment coming from you:), a professional.
      I am very grateful you took the time to follow-up and read the poem. Words still fail to say what it feels like to have my poems resonate in the hearts and minds of those who love and practice this thing we do called writing.
      Please come again and often, I really appreciate your eyes upon my poetry.

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