Tulips (Sylvia Plath Poems)
The tulips are too excitable, it is winter here. Look how white everything is, how quiet, how snowed-in I am ...
The tulips are too excitable, it is winter here. Look how white everything is, how quiet, how snowed-in I am ...
Viciousness in the kitchen! The potatoes hiss. It is all Hollywood, windowless, The fluorescent light wincing on and off like ...
How far is it? How far is it now? The gigantic gorilla interior Of the wheels move, they appall me ...
Here are two pupils whose moons of black transform to cripples all who look: each lovely lady who peers inside ...
A Poem for Three Voices Setting: A Maternity Ward and round about FIRST VOICE: I am slow as the world. ...
Who are these people at the bridge to meet me? They are the villagers---- The rector, the midwife, the sexton, ...
Off that landspit of stony mouth-plugs, Eyes rolled by white sticks, Ears cupping the sea's incoherences, You house your unnerving ...
Bare-handed, I hand the combs. The man in white smiles, bare-handed, Our cheesecloth gauntlets neat and sweet, The throats of ...
Color floods to the spot, dull purple. The rest of the body is all washed-out, The color of pearl. In ...
(1) This is the sea, then, this great abeyance. How the sun's poultice draws on my inflammation. Electrifyingly-colored sherbets, scooped ...
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