Cut (Sylvia Plath Poems)
for Susan O'Neill Roe What a thrill ---- My thumb instead of an onion. The top quite gone Except for ...
for Susan O'Neill Roe What a thrill ---- My thumb instead of an onion. The top quite gone Except for ...
Two, of course there are two. It seems perfectly natural now-- The one who never looks up, whose eyes are ...
I ordered this, clean wood box Square as a chair and almost too heavy to lift. I would say it ...
If the moon smiled, she would resemble you. You leave the same impression Of something beautiful, but annihilating. Both of ...
The air is a mill of hooks -- Questions without answer, Glittering and drunk as flies Whose kiss stings unbearably ...
No use whistling for Lyonnesse! Sea-cold, sea-cold it certainly is. Take a look at the white, high berg on his ...
Water in the millrace, through a sluice of stone, plunges headlong into that black pond where, absurd and out-of-season, a ...
'Perspective betrays with its dichotomy: train tracks always meet, not here, but only in the impossible mind's eye; horizons beat ...
How far is it? How far is it now? The gigantic gorilla interior Of the wheels move, they appall me ...
Little poppies, little hell flames, Do you do no harm? You flicker. I cannot touch you. I put my hands ...
On the stiff twig up there Hunches a wet black rook Arranging and rearranging its feathers in the rain. I ...
Dans le fond des forêts votre image me suit. RACINE There is a panther stalks me down: One day I'll ...
The engine is killing the track, the track is silver, It stretches into the distance. It will be eaten nevertheless. ...
Somebody is shooting at something in our town -- A dull pom, pom in the Sunday street. Jealousy can open ...
Touch it: it won't shrink like an eyeball, This egg-shaped bailiwick, clear as a tear. Here's yesterday, last year --- ...
Never try to trick me with a kiss Pretending that the birds are here to stay; The dying man will ...
My thoughts are crabbed and sallow, My tears like vinegar, Or the bitter blinking yellow Of an acetic star. Tonight ...
God knows how our neighbor managed to breed His great sow: Whatever his shrewd secret, he kept it hid In ...
I shall never get out of this! There are two of me now: This new absolutely white person and the ...
Color of lemon, mango, peach, These storybook villas Still dream behind Shutters, thier balconies Fine as hand- Made lace, or ...
(1) The day she visited the dissecting room They had four men laid out, black as burnt turkey, Already half ...
In ruck and quibble of courtfolk This giant hulked, I tell you, on her scene With hands like derricks, Looks ...
I'm a riddle in nine syllables, An elephant, a ponderous house, A melon strolling on two tendrils. O red fruit, ...
Axes After whose stroke the wood rings, And the echoes! Echoes traveling Off from the center like horses. The sap ...
Here are two pupils whose moons of black transform to cripples all who look: each lovely lady who peers inside ...
This is the light of the mind, cold and planetary The trees of the mind are black. The light is ...
All summer we moved in a villa brimful of echos, Cool as the pearled interior of a conch. Bells, hooves, ...
This is the easy time, there is nothing doing. I have whirled the midwife's extractor, I have my honey, Six ...
Through portico of my elegant house you stalk With your wild furies, disturbing garlands of fruit And the fabulous lutes ...
Day of mist: day of tarnish with hands unserviceable, I wait for the milk van the one-eared cat laps its ...
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