Maxioms by Sylvia Plath
I lean to you, numb as a fossil. Tell me I'm here.
I lean to you, numb as a fossil. Tell me I'm here.
The man creates a pseudonym and hides behind it like a worm
The man creates a pseudonym and hides behind it like a worm
For me, poetry is an evasion of the real job of writing prose.
For me, poetry is an evasion of the real job of writing prose.
I am inhabited by a cry.
Nightly it flaps out
Looking, with its hooks, for something to love.
I am read more
I am inhabited by a cry.
Nightly it flaps out
Looking, with its hooks, for something to love.
I am terrified by this dark thing
That sleeps in me;
All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity.
