Sylvia Plath Poetry is a book filled with the content of Sylvia Plath's poems.
Sylvia Plath was an American poet, novelist, and short story writer.
Plath's work often was singled out for the intense coupling of its violent or disturbed imagery and...
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This is a dark house, very big. I made it myself, Cell by cell from a quiet corner, Chewing at the grey paper, Oozing the glue drops, Whistling, wiggling my ears, Thinking of something else.
It has so many cellars, Such eelish delvings! U an round as an owl, I see by my own light. Any day I may litter puppies Or mother a horse. My belly moves. I must make more maps.
These marrowy tunnels! Moley-handed, I eat my way. All-mouth licks up the bushes And the pots of meat. He lives in an old well, A stoney hole. He's to blame. He's a fat sort.
Pebble smells, turnipy chambers. Small nostrils are breathing. Little humble loves! Footlings, boneless as noses, It is warm and tolerable In the bowel of the root. Here's a cuddly mother.
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