matt williams
A Note to Accompany Dorothea Tanning’s Eine Kleine Nachtmusik

"Having no effect on myself,
        a mirror erases me.  My own touch…"
                        -Brenda Shaughnessy

[ I give perspective,        Sir Real, to provide        space for a female        on canvas: in
        shades       & hues unknown to her    body.    These women will            not fade in
      pink; spread                                   naked, plump, and up close
                     -but as distant bones. ]

                                The rag doll                     
                                doesn't bleed,                        
                                she soaks up        
                                her identity:                                            
                                devours the self.
                                She leans beautiful       
                                in blonde                    
                                and sexless               
                                chest exposed                     
                                        -in fact,       
                                she doesn’t bleed
                                yet.  So she’s thin        
                                or empty.  Fill her              

                                                                        And her sister        
                                                                        sleep walking
                                                                        to survive.
                                                                        Dark soul,
                                                                        dark hair
                                                                        wrapped up
                                                                        in yellow sun-
                                                                        Covered in streams
                                                                        of unconsciousness                        
                                                                        she moans
                                                                        in green