lily does her yoga
dictates a letter:
thankyou for the poems

by ms. plath had to laugh-
age and insanity..!?
(in her itzy-bitzy-polka-dot-

bikini..)she goes into the
laughing monkey..take down this poem
mj-

once your in their mind
then,one burrows-
like a small animal

with red eyes and fearful tail!
no limits, scream the signs..
it is with siege mentality-

to break down and
into the hysterical!
because once inside?(the middle)

the pain IS the brain
one takes a suitable stance
and stays..

ii

read it back mj..after we spent
a long night on the beach
the sun was a rose

and we climbed a hill
that was red and hot
with little or no shade

barefoot and sore..
we made a cafe after three hours
and it was only us..

from her purse..
she said i have this
it was a bud of kerela

i said,pourquoi pas
she said how do you feel
she said she was too high

and i agreed
so we went for a swim
then we walked in the heat to

our little house and laid in
the cool.
and fell asleep..

read a poem
i got another one:
mirror

i am silver and exact.i have no preconceptions.
whatever i see i swallow immediately
just as it is,unmisted by love or dislike.
i am not cruel only truthful-
the eye of a little god,four-cornered.
most of the time i meditate on the opposite wall.
it is pink, with speckles.i have looked at it so long
i think it is part of my heart.but it flickers.
faces and darkness separate us over and over.

now i am a lake.a woman bends over me,
searching my reaches for what she really is.
then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon.
i see her back and reflect it faithfully.
she rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands.
i am important to her.she comes and goes.
each morning it is her face that replaces darkness.
in me she has drowned a young girl,and in me an old
woman
rises toward her day after day,like a terrible fish.

by
      sylvia plath

exactly-crow as we know
has to eat and lily is rather
chilly..read on..!

(brrr-bbrrr-telephone..)
the tape playing-hello
i am not in but read me

a poem..it´s me-i got this one
at the bootsale for 50 cents
selected poems by sylvia plath..

mrs drake proceeds to supper

no novice
in those elaborate rituals
which allay the malice
of knotted table and crooked chair
the new woman in the ward
wears purple,steps carefully
among her secret combination of egg shells
and breakable humming birds
footing sallow as a mouse
between the cabbage-roses
which are slowly opening their furred petals
to devour and drag her down
into the carpet´s design.

with bird-quick eye cocked askew
she can see in the nick of time
how perrilous needles grain the floorboard
and outwit the brambled plan
now through her ambushed air
adazzle and broad shards
of broken glass,
she edges with wary breath.
feeding off jag and tooth
until turning sideways,
she lifts one webbed foot after another
into the still,sultry weather
of the patients´dining room.

nice one-i am sell my possessions
at the next flea market
due to starvation..
see you soon..

ii

hello crow no reply
since time mormorial
the world has considered

the artist starving-since vinny
chopped his ear and no doubt previously
which is it hunger or beauty?

while the fat little bourgeois sits
in his shop and gets off free..
myth:anyone can work in a factory..

but good luck and don´t be greedy..
but be lucky little birdy
l..

lily does her yoga
the snapping turtle
examaning her reflection in the dusty
window-she says the world does n´t
care for me-why should i care for the world..
all i see is greed lies and hypocrisy..

the lone tree-at least has respect
the insect does not practise torture
the cat has real pride
fish have feelings
the serpent endless beauty
birds their song
and telepathy
i care for them..

i have come to understand effort
once i would just give up
when teacher said no such word
as can´t-

i would scoff..but it is the act
it is the love..we put in..
and somehow get back..
the leaf is thin..

i remember pushkar!
our balcony overlooked
the sacred lake and carp raised from
the sky seeming to smile
could n´t beleive it..

then we went on a camel trek!
3 days in the desert-roxy on
the head phones .. buzzards
on high..how fine it all was..!
we had our dinner round the fire
and slept beneath the stars..ahhh..

how hard is life
how hard is death
o thin as a leaf

how long before
you regarded me, miriam
and said,

what i wanted to be?
(i wanted to be more ******-
stop bugging me..)

i wanted to be a muscian..
you were an actor or are
a star!

you look much happier!
(this makes me happy)
i did n´t know what to say..

i felt so empty
i felt no future
it will be ok..

i never thought of that
but it´s been no pick-nick
but neither would i want it..

i have learned to talk
mainly through books and music
and the odd thought

and i stopped drinking..
just like anyone
it is ok..