And now I
Foam to wheat, a glitter of seas.
The child’s cry
Melts in the wall.
And I
Am the arrow,
The dew that flies
Suicidal, at one with the drive
Into the red
Eye, the cauldron of morning.
- Sylvia Plath, Ariel
And now I
Foam to wheat, a glitter of seas.
The child’s cry
Melts in the wall.
And I
Am the arrow,
The dew that flies
Suicidal, at one with the drive
Into the red
Eye, the cauldron of morning.
- Sylvia Plath, Ariel
A bad day, a bad time. State of mind most important for work. A blithe, itchy, eager state where the poem itself, the story itself is supreme.
- Sylvia Plath, ‘The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath’
