My disquieting Muse

The naked truth is that I wish my poems could boast the same stark honesty of Francesca Woodman's photographs. There is so much power in them and the clear feeling that she is weaving a story in every single snapshot. Unhinged doors, thresholds leading to everywhere and to nowhere, tightrope walker kind of poses, apparent oddness winking at surrealness, scattered debris, cracked mirrors, objects mingling with bodies and her Self. Francesca--whether naked or not--leaves her mark, her trail of personality throughout the whole scene. All her shots are still yet vibrant means of self-assertion. And yes, she is becoming my disquieting Muse.


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