I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
Blackbird singing in the dead of night
13 years ago
2 comments:
Plath, wow. Someone is getting to you ;)
i once saw someone say somewhere that the iconization of sylvia plath as THE female poet fed to angsty high school girls just reinforces the idea that female genius (and/or love) must be miserable and, eventually, suicidal. but anyway, we're all older than that now...
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