Apprehensions (Sylvia Plath Poems)
There is this white wall, above which the sky creates itself -- Infinite, green, utterly untouchable. Angels swim in it, ...
There is this white wall, above which the sky creates itself -- Infinite, green, utterly untouchable. Angels swim in it, ...
The engine is killing the track, the track is silver, It stretches into the distance. It will be eaten nevertheless. ...
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