Sylvia Plath Bot @sylvia-plath-bot.bsky.social · 50mHalfway down from groves where the thin, bitter almond pips Fatten in green-pocked pods, the three net-menders sit out, Dressed in black, everybody in mourning for someone. 010
Sylvia Plath Bot @sylvia-plath-bot.bsky.social · 1hBlooms out of a vase of not very valuable porcelain, And it was I who attracted everybody's attention, 010
Sylvia Plath Bot @sylvia-plath-bot.bsky.social · 11hAnansi, black busybody of the folktales, You scuttle out on impulse Blunt in self-interest 022
Sylvia Plath Bot @sylvia-plath-bot.bsky.social · 19hBowing and truckling like an old-school Oriental. 010
Sylvia Plath Bot @sylvia-plath-bot.bsky.social · 23hThe Great Carbuncle We came over the moor-top Through air streaming and green-lit, 010
Sylvia Plath Bot @sylvia-plath-bot.bsky.social · 15/10/2026The upflight of the murderess into a heaven that loves her. 052
Sylvia Plath Bot @sylvia-plath-bot.bsky.social · 15/10/2026What Gerd saw then engraved her mind Plague-pitted as the moon: each bud Shriveling to cinders at its source, 010
Sylvia Plath Bot @sylvia-plath-bot.bsky.social · 15/10/2026Grazing at the margins of a bad monochrome, 010
Sylvia Plath Bot @sylvia-plath-bot.bsky.social · 15/10/2026Old Bocklin missed, who held a shell To hear the sea he could not hear. 020
Sylvia Plath Bot @sylvia-plath-bot.bsky.social · 15/10/2026From his earth-wife's side To wing, sleep-feathered, The singular air, 083
Sylvia Plath Bot @sylvia-plath-bot.bsky.social · 14/10/2026His little face is carved in pained, red wood. 030
Sylvia Plath Bot @sylvia-plath-bot.bsky.social · 14/10/2026So neat she is transparent, like a spirit. 050
Sylvia Plath Bot @sylvia-plath-bot.bsky.social · 14/10/2026Him to his knees— Let him send police and hounds to bring her in. 010
Sylvia Plath Bot @sylvia-plath-bot.bsky.social · 14/10/2026Through Sunday's honey-air We walked (and still walk there— Out of the sun's bruising) 000
Sylvia Plath Bot @sylvia-plath-bot.bsky.social · 14/10/2026Not him, nor him (My Selves dissolving, old whore petticoats)- To Paradise. 010
Sylvia Plath Bot @sylvia-plath-bot.bsky.social · 14/10/2026In this day before the day nobody is about. 020
Sylvia Plath Bot @sylvia-plath-bot.bsky.social · 14/10/2026Where the most watchful cooks go jobless And the mayor's rotisserie turns 030
Sylvia Plath Bot @sylvia-plath-bot.bsky.social · 14/10/2026Radiation turned it white And killed it in an hour. 022
Sylvia Plath Bot @sylvia-plath-bot.bsky.social · 13/10/2026Adhering to rules, to rules, to rules. 060
Sylvia Plath Bot @sylvia-plath-bot.bsky.social · 13/10/2026Behind a goatherd's hut: Near his small stonehenge above the ants' route, One-third ant-size, a leggy spot, 020
Sylvia Plath Bot @sylvia-plath-bot.bsky.social · 13/10/2026I am myself again. There are no loose ends. 041
Sylvia Plath Bot @sylvia-plath-bot.bsky.social · 13/10/2026To you they are only transparencies, clear air. 042
Sylvia Plath Bot @sylvia-plath-bot.bsky.social · 13/10/2026I tire, imagining white Niagaras Build up from a rock root, as fountains build Against the weighty image of their fall. 031
Sylvia Plath Bot @sylvia-plath-bot.bsky.social · 13/10/2026Among orange-tile rooftops and chimney pots 030
Sylvia Plath Bot @sylvia-plath-bot.bsky.social · 12/10/2026A disturbance in mirrors, The sea shattering its gray one- 051
Sylvia Plath Bot @sylvia-plath-bot.bsky.social · 12/10/2026Whipping off your silk scarf, exhibiting the tight white Mummy-cloths, smiling: I'm all right. 042
Sylvia Plath Bot @sylvia-plath-bot.bsky.social · 12/10/2026As I could between bare toes? That question ended it—I 020
Sylvia Plath Bot @sylvia-plath-bot.bsky.social · 12/10/2026And the green-copse-castled Pig hove, letting legend like dried mud drop, 000
Sylvia Plath Bot @sylvia-plath-bot.bsky.social · 12/10/2026For the blood-heat that would ruddle or reclaim. 021
Sylvia Plath Bot @sylvia-plath-bot.bsky.social · 12/10/2026A marble sailor kneels at her foot distractedly, and at his foot A peasant woman in black 010
Sylvia Plath Bot @sylvia-plath-bot.bsky.social · 12/10/2026Skulls. Inscrutable, Below shoulders not once 031
Sylvia Plath Bot @sylvia-plath-bot.bsky.social · 12/10/2026The words in his book wormed off the pages. 075
Sylvia Plath Bot @sylvia-plath-bot.bsky.social · 11/10/2026Fractured pillars frame prospects of rock; While you stand heroic in coat and tie, I sit Composed in Grecian tunic and psyche-knot, 042
Sylvia Plath Bot @sylvia-plath-bot.bsky.social · 11/10/2026Scrutinizing the fly Of the man's pants 030
Sylvia Plath Bot @sylvia-plath-bot.bsky.social · 11/10/2026Upsetting me with their sudden tongues and their color, 020
Sylvia Plath Bot @sylvia-plath-bot.bsky.social · 11/10/2026Not wealth nor wisdom stands Above the simple vein, 030
