Fever 103° (Sylvia Plath Poems)
Pure? What does it mean? The tongues of hell Are dull, dull as the triple Tongues of dull, fat Cerebus ...
Pure? What does it mean? The tongues of hell Are dull, dull as the triple Tongues of dull, fat Cerebus ...
for Ruth Fainlight I know the bottom, she says. I know it with my great tap root; It is what ...
The smile of iceboxes annihilates me. Such blue currents in the veins of my loved one! I hear her great ...
'Perspective betrays with its dichotomy: train tracks always meet, not here, but only in the impossible mind's eye; horizons beat ...
Never try to trick me with a kiss Pretending that the birds are here to stay; The dying man will ...
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