MAG#137 "You'll Shine Like Silver'

It Must Be Time For Lunch Now, 1979, by Francesca Woodman

 

MAG 137

 

UNDERNEATH

 

THE TABLE CAKED WITH FORKS

DIDN'T HOLD A PLACE FOR YOU

 

YOU WERE HIDDEN UNDER THE FOLDS

ENFOLDING YOU

IN THE ODD GLORY

OF A SPACE NOT QUITE DESIGNED

AS A PERFECT NICHE

YOU SEEK

AND

HID

YOU

DID

BY

DIVINE INTERVENTION

OR

GRACE BEFORE SUPPER

WHO'S THERE TO REMIND YOU OF

YOUR CHILD WITHIN

EVERY TIME YOU

SET THE TABLE

THE FORKS BENT

THE TABLECLOTHE

BARELY COVERED

YOUR REPOSE

SO AS NOT TO BE

SO DESPAIRINGLY

FOR WONT TO BE NAKED

RECENTLY UNCOVERED BY

NASCENT GRACE

WHO CHOOSES TO LIVE WITH

THE IMPOSSIBLE FACT THAT LIFE IS CRUEL

AND INCREDULOUS

AS NIHILIST AS A SPASM

THIS STATE OF BEING

SEEMS A MIGHT

INSIGHT SPACE

AT

THE WRONG TIME

PERHAPS

TO DIE SO YOUNG

AND BY YOUR OWN ARTFUL HAND

DID YOU DESIRE

A LIFE

ON THE LEFT BANK

WHERE VISIONS SEEP IN

LIKE DAEMONES

AND WHO, THEN WOULD LIKE YOU

YOUR ART

WHO'D LOVE YOU

COMPLETELY

NOT JUST IN A PORTFOLIO WAY

CAVALIER IN ANY OTHER PERIOD

LIKELY TO REMAIN

HIDDEN IN FIN DE SIECLE POSTCARDS

KODACHROMATICA EROTICA INSTALLATIONS

POLAROID HID THE QUICK AND THE DEAD

ART ADDICTS WHO ONLY PARTIALLY

HAVE HIDDEN COLLAPSED WALLPAPER

UNDER AND NEAR THESE FREQUENTED PARKS 

STREETS HEAVED-HO UP

ALL THIS

EMBARRASSING  

TO KEEP ONE'S IMAGE UNDER THE TABLE

THOUGHT THE CRITICS

FUCK THEM

YOU SEEM TO GET\THE ICONOGRAPHY

JUST SO

IN  FIRST YEAR ART SCHOOL

DISMAL ONLY SEEMS PAST

BUT CREEPS AND WALKS

ALL OVER THE WALLS 

TO ROT ALL\THE JOHNNY ROTTENS

AT OTHER PUNK ROCK SCHOOLS

UNDER STREETS LACED WITH IT

ALL THAT SELLS IS STILL STALLED

SOUL KNOWS ALL

RECALLS NO FEELINGS

THOSE SCANT REMAINS

SAVE BLEAK HOUSE

AN UNLIKELY ESCAPE FROM ONESELF?

DEPRESSION LOOKS LIKE THIS

HEAVY WEIGHTINESS 

JUST BENEATH THE SURFACE OF SCRATCH

ALL THAT REMAINS STILL

AS NEED FOR MOTHER FORMS MERGE

WITH A SELF-INDUCED SMOTHERING OF BEING SOMEHOW

HAMPERED AND LOST IN THE SHUFFLE

BY ALL THE PARSIMONY OF THE PROP MISTRESS

REMEMBER DEAR FRANCESCA

DO NOT

THERE IS NO HARBOUR

FOR THOSE LEFTOVER

NO RESIDUAL FEELINGS

LINGERING LONGER

UNDER THE TABLE

HAPHAZARDLY COVERED

WITH A SENSE OF ANGST

MAYBE GUILT

YOU'RE THE LOVELY MUSE

WITH

GILDED WINGS

YOUR PARTIAL INNOCENCE

CONTENT

PHOTOGRAPHIC IMAGE MADE BY FADE INTO BLACK

ART HAD GLITTER BUT GLUTTED THE 80s MARKET

IT WASN'T YOUR FAULT

ONE DAY

SOON

YOU'LL SHINE

LIKE SILVER

MY DEAR

 

chiccoreal

 

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