american poetry
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Girl Talk: The Code of Sylvia Plath’s “Cut”
Given her Swiftian bent in “Cut,” Plath fantastically extrapolates Freud’s castration complex and imagines the female anatomy in ludicrous male personas, each with its own abject place in history, while the poem serves, at once, as a celebration, social satire and lament about female gender. Girl Talk: The Code of Sylvia Plath’s “Cut” This is a […]
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Dissonance
Im only free when I drink free to say what I want and how i want when I don’t care that my barbaric yawp hits the wall and slides down into an abyss of silence silence that smothers and silence smothers me in this worldI am not made for I never realized this world is […] Continue reading
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reminisce
there are no stars tonight justsnow clouds, and some light somewhere aboveor belowradiates the color rose the night presses in closet-likeand freedom seems far off like Mayand spring and the love that grewlong ago waving grassesflowers and summer rainwhat if doors could be openonce shut and clocks could be rewoundhow different the world would besecond […] Continue reading
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Ophelia
missing.always.missing. hole cut out of my life I am you just another version, that’s all. now, in the twilight of middle age I discover I am merely flesh and blood with no heart. the winds blow through my soul encountering no obstacle on the grassless prairie still, I am far away. haunted by my demons […] Continue reading
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crossroads
“Since then ‘t is centuries; but each Feels shorter than the day I first surmised the horses’ heads Were toward eternity.”– emily dickinson at the end, the precipice.no signs forward no signs backno bridge overno wings to flyonly wide open black space descendingdown away from the sky Then a movement in the wind catches my […] Continue reading
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dead prayers to a man god
the night is the worst empty arms and outdoors is blue-black, like a bruise Like the bruise you gave me when you slammed the door in my face your empty promises of return reverberating like so much empty clanging of bells The bells, the bells of church ringing a God I do not know who […] Continue reading
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time
I have no time, she says, pouring water for dishes in the sink years of time washing over her flitting memory-movies in her brain Gone like water. Time weighed on Sylvia Plath and washing dishes she knows what that feels like knows the feeling of heads in ovens knows the almost relief of vacations to […] Continue reading
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Mystery
i am swept up in graceNo longer myself but a vision I once hadbriefly a flash of light you created anewthe stars knowas does all of creation that you move among us soundlessly the gardener in his garden pronouncing everything goodyou are the artist painting rainbows across the sky the blue jay brushes against the […] Continue reading
About Me
poet, diarist, writer, teacher, woman, fragile, strong, northern life is my domicile, my barbaric yawp exudes against the tide
Diary of an American 