Sunday, January 01, 2006

A New Year Poem from Sylvia Plath















New Year on Dartmoor

This is newness : every little tawdry
Obstacle glass-wrapped and peculiar,
Glinting and clinking in a saint's falsetto. Only you
Don't know what to make of the sudden slippiness,
The blind, white, awful, inaccessible slant.
There's no getting up it by the words you know.
No getting up by elephant or wheel or shoe.
We have only come to look. You are too new
To want the world in a glass hat.

1 comment:

Elyce Rae Helford said...

Thank you for the dose of Plath. She was a fascinating woman. The Bell Jar remains etched in my mind. Whether we opt to remain in this life or escape it, we can leave our mark.