Totem (Sylvia Plath Poems)
The engine is killing the track, the track is silver, It stretches into the distance. It will be eaten nevertheless. ...
The engine is killing the track, the track is silver, It stretches into the distance. It will be eaten nevertheless. ...
(1) This is the sea, then, this great abeyance. How the sun's poultice draws on my inflammation. Electrifyingly-colored sherbets, scooped ...
This is the light of the mind, cold and planetary The trees of the mind are black. The light is ...
Pocket watch, I tick well. The streets are lizardly crevices Sheer-sided, with holes where to hide. It is best to ...
The air is a mill of hooks -- Questions without answer, Glittering and drunk as flies Whose kiss stings unbearably ...
This is the easy time, there is nothing doing. I have whirled the midwife's extractor, I have my honey, Six ...
I am a miner. The light burns blue. Waxy stalactites Drip and thicken, tears The earthen womb Exudes from its ...
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