Mad Girl's Love Song
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Here I am, a bundle of past recollections and future dreams, knotted up in a reasonably attractive bundle of flesh. I remember what this flesh had gone through; I dream of what it may go through. I record here the actions of optical nerves, of taste buds, of sensory perception. And, I think: I am but one more drop in the great sea of matter, defined, with the ability to realize my existence.
Here I am, a bundle of past recollections and future dreams, knotted up in a reasonably attractive bundle of flesh. I remember what this flesh had gone through; I dream of what it may go through. I record here the actions of optical nerves, of taste buds, of sensory perception. And, I think: I am but one more drop in the great sea of matter, defined, with the ability to realize my existence.
With access to The New Yorker digital archive you can see Sylvia Plath’s poems printed in original form. Almost as good as holding a hard copy in your hand. Magazines were so very different back then.
Plath
favorite comment on my poetry assignment:
Feels like Sylvia Plath —so strong but just not clear enough.
Dear Sivvy,
My condolences for you;
for your struggle;
for the day that marked the end.
My only regret is never meeting you.
Sylvia Plath (October 27, 1932 - February 11, 1963)
Sylvia Plath: Click-click: tick-tick Clock snips time in twoLap of rainIn the drain...
Click-click: tick-tick
Clock snips time in two
Lap of rain
In the drain pipe
Two o’clock
And never you.
Never you, down the evening,
I cannot
Cry, or even smile
Acidly or bitter-sweetly
For never you and incompletely.
Things surround me;
I could touch
Soap or toothbrush
Desk or…
…I am but one more drop in the great sea of matter, defined, with the ability to realize my existence.
— Sylvia Plath
endure, endure, and the syllables harden like stoic white sheets struck with rigor mortis on the clothesline of winter.
— Sylvia Plath (letter -1955)
