Lady Lazarus (Sylvia Plath Poems)
I have done it again. One year in every ten I manage it---- A sort of walking miracle, my skin ...
I have done it again. One year in every ten I manage it---- A sort of walking miracle, my skin ...
First, are you our sort of a person? Do you wear A glass eye, false teeth or a crutch, A ...
The Sunday lamb cracks in its fat. The fat Sacrifices its opacity. . . . A window, holy gold. The ...
The day you died I went into the dirt, Into the lightless hibernaculum Where bees, striped black and gold, sleep ...
The word of a snail on the plate of a leaf? It is not mine. Do not accept it. Acetic ...
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