Insomniac (Sylvia Plath Poems)
The night is only a sort of carbon paper, Blueblack, with the much-poked periods of stars Letting in the light, ...
The night is only a sort of carbon paper, Blueblack, with the much-poked periods of stars Letting in the light, ...
The air is a mill of hooks -- Questions without answer, Glittering and drunk as flies Whose kiss stings unbearably ...
(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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