Home on the Range | Tuesday Nov 18, 2008
Clownlike, happiest on your hands,
Feet to the stars, and moon-skulled,
Gilled like a fish. A common-sense
Thumbs-down on the dodo’s mode.
Wrapped up in yourself like a spool,
Trawling your dark as owls do.
Mute as a turnip from the Fourth
Of July to All Fools’ Day,
O high-riser, my little loaf.
Clownlike, happiest on your hands,
Feet to the stars, and moon-skulled,
Gilled like a fish. A common-sense
Thumbs-down on the dodo’s mode.
Wrapped up in yourself like a spool,
Trawling your dark as owls do.
Mute as a turnip from the Fourth
Of July to All Fools’ Day,
O high-riser, my little loaf.
Vague as fog and looked for like mail.
Farther off than Australia.
Bent-backed Atlas, our traveled prawn.
Snug as a bud and at home
Like a sprat in a pickle jug.
A creel of eels, all ripples.
Jumpy as a Mexican bean.
Right, like a well-done sum.
A clean slate, with your own face on.
You’re
by Sylvia Plath
Tags: decay eddie_mchugh entropy fine_art_photography
Galleries: General
- Panasonic
- DMC-FZ30
- 1/125 sec
- 7.4 mm
- 80
- 0
- Normal program
- Flash did not fire, auto
- Multi-segment
- 2
Posted by Tamera on November 18, 2008 at 10:00 AM PST #
Posted by Joachim on November 18, 2008 at 12:43 PM PST #
Posted by daina on November 19, 2008 at 07:02 AM PST #
Posted by Footyman on November 19, 2008 at 07:02 AM PST #