By: Anne Sexton Someone lives in a cave eating his toes, I know that much. Someone little lives under a bush pressing an empty Coca-Cola can…
By: Sylvia Plath On this bald hill the new year hones its edge. Faceless and pale as china The round sky goes on minding its…
By: Slyvia Plath All right, let’s say you could take a skull and break it The way you’d crack a clock; you’d crush the bone…
