Edge (Sylvia Plath Poems)
The woman is perfected Her dead Body wears the smile of accomplishment, The illusion of a Greek necessity Flows in ...
The woman is perfected Her dead Body wears the smile of accomplishment, The illusion of a Greek necessity Flows in ...
The night is only a sort of carbon paper, Blueblack, with the much-poked periods of stars Letting in the light, ...
But I would rather be horizontal. I am not a tree with my root in the soil Sucking up minerals ...
A Poem for Three Voices Setting: A Maternity Ward and round about FIRST VOICE: I am slow as the world. ...
The black bull bellowed before the sea. The sea, till that day orderly, Hove up against Bendylaw. The queen in ...
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