Sylvia Plath
Words
Axes after whose stroke the wood rings,
And the echoes!
Echoes travelling
Off from the center like horses.
The sap
Wells like tears, like the
Water striving
To re-establish its mirror
Over the rock
That drops and turns,
A white skull,
Eaten by weedy greens.
Years later I
Encounter them on the road —
Words dry and riderless,
The indefatigable hoof-taps.
While
From the bottom of the pool, fixed stars
Govern a life.
7 Comments on "National Poetry Month: Sylvia Plath"
zach:
Enough poems! Sheesh! I want live presidential press conference blogging! Doesn’t the tatteredcoat have a take on last night’s commander in chief love-in?
Matt:
only a few more days of poety to go . . . come on, we can’t fade out when we’re so close to the finish line.
I found Dubya to be very convincing, actually. From here on out, The Tattered Coat will join television journalists in promoting Bush’s agenda.
So, let’s privatize social security! Affirm John Bolton! Increase gas prices! Accept Jesus Christ as our personal savior! Accept Tom DeLay as our personal ethics exterminator! Kill all the infidels! Woohoo!
Rod:
I’ve really enjoyed National Poetry Month. I have to admit that I was oblivious to it in previous years, and it’s kind of great to engage with poetry every day. It feels healthy, somehow.
Maybe we can post the occasional poem once NPM is over?
Matt:
Maybe we can start our own eclectic monthly tradition….”May is Essay Month!” “June is Manifesto month!” “July is Codicil Month!” “August is Constitution Month!”
On second thought, maybe not. But yeah, we should definitely sprinkle in some poems throughout the year.
Rod:
Today was, i believe, Bring-Your-Son-Or -Daughter-To-Work Day.
And nobody brought anybody.
So we could call it something and then not do anything about it, is what I’m saying.
I nominate Broken Promises Month, Lies Month, and Don’t-Say It-If-You-Don’t-Mean-It-Month, off the top of my head. But I have a million other suggestions that are more or less of a similar bitter ilk.
Sunshine and lollipops, my ass.
cookie:
How about don’t-be-so-damned-sensitive month. Or, you-knew-what- was-going-to-happen -if-you-did-that month. Or the classic it’s-not-you-it’s-me month.
Don’t be bitter, Rod. Take a nap, drink a twelve pack, top it off with a few shots of Tequilla and you’ll feel much better. Then call your best female friend that will let you sleep in her bed, pass out before anything ‘happens’, then wake up, go home and ponder that you could have gotten lucky last night, but you turned her down and remember just how lucky you are because it’s a bright shiny day and the birds are chirping and the flowers are blooming.
Rod:
Wow, I’m doing several of those things already and I still feel miserable. What can I be doing wrong?
We need to get Doctor Phil up in this joint.
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