Your clear eye is the one absolutely beautiful thing.
I want to fill it with color and ducks,
The zoo of new
Whose name you meditate
April snowdrop, Indian Pipe,
Little
Stalk without wrinkle,
Pool in which images
Should be grand and classical
Not this troublous
Wringing of hands, this dark
Ceiling without a star.
Plath is such an interesting poet... better, I think, than her contemporary poet (and fellow suicide) Anne Sexton. I very much like the idea of you blogging, and hope maybe you'll share some of your own poetry here.
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