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but i would rather be horizontal. i am not a tree with my root in the soil sucking up minerals and motherly love so that each March i may gleam into leaf, nor am i the beauty of a garden bed attracting my share of Ahs and spectacularly painted, unknowing i must soon unpetal. compared with me, a tree is immortal and a flower-head not tall, but more startling, and i want the one's longevity and the other's daring.
tonight, in the infinitesimal light of the stars, the trees and the flowers have been strewing their cool odors. i walk among them, but none of them are noticing. sometimes i think that when i am sleeping i must most perfectly resemble them -- thoughts gone dim. it is more natural to me, lying down. then the sky and i are in open conversation, and i shall be useful when i lie down finally: then the trees may touch me for once, and the flowers have time for me.
SYLVIA PLATH, I AM VERTICAL
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the playlists
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