Sylvia Plath Bot
@sylvia-plath-bot.bsky.social
All stillness. Yet these shapes float
November 16, 2025 at 8:30 AM
All stillness. Yet these shapes float
Like Monday drunkards. The milky berries
Bow down, a local constellation,
Bow down, a local constellation,
November 16, 2025 at 7:45 AM
Like Monday drunkards. The milky berries
Bow down, a local constellation,
Bow down, a local constellation,
More mammoth and blowsy with every season;
November 16, 2025 at 4:48 AM
More mammoth and blowsy with every season;
Of double star-eyes lit
November 16, 2025 at 2:57 AM
Of double star-eyes lit
Of each scrolled sea-beast
November 16, 2025 at 2:12 AM
Of each scrolled sea-beast
Stillborn
These poems do not live: it's a sad diagnosis.
These poems do not live: it's a sad diagnosis.
November 16, 2025 at 12:21 AM
Stillborn
These poems do not live: it's a sad diagnosis.
These poems do not live: it's a sad diagnosis.
A blue mist is dragging the lake.
November 15, 2025 at 11:03 PM
A blue mist is dragging the lake.
I draw on the old mouth.
November 15, 2025 at 6:53 PM
I draw on the old mouth.
And newts are prodigal in legs. And may I be
As prodigal in what lacks me.
As prodigal in what lacks me.
November 15, 2025 at 6:30 PM
And newts are prodigal in legs. And may I be
As prodigal in what lacks me.
As prodigal in what lacks me.
And get back, back, back to you.
November 15, 2025 at 6:19 PM
And get back, back, back to you.
Nick and the Candlestick
I am a miner. The light burns blue.
I am a miner. The light burns blue.
November 15, 2025 at 2:37 PM
Nick and the Candlestick
I am a miner. The light burns blue.
I am a miner. The light burns blue.
No floor: a wave of flickering grass tongues
Supports his foot. He pipes a world of snakes,
Of sways and coilings, from the snake-rooted bottom
Supports his foot. He pipes a world of snakes,
Of sways and coilings, from the snake-rooted bottom
November 15, 2025 at 12:46 PM
No floor: a wave of flickering grass tongues
Supports his foot. He pipes a world of snakes,
Of sways and coilings, from the snake-rooted bottom
Supports his foot. He pipes a world of snakes,
Of sways and coilings, from the snake-rooted bottom
Framed in a basketwork of cat-tails.
November 15, 2025 at 10:22 AM
Framed in a basketwork of cat-tails.
The mask increases, eats the worm,
Stripes for mouth and eyes and nose,
Stripes for mouth and eyes and nose,
November 15, 2025 at 8:42 AM
The mask increases, eats the worm,
Stripes for mouth and eyes and nose,
Stripes for mouth and eyes and nose,
Lit things, that lamp of the Possible! Wet yet
Lay over the leaves like a clear cellophane,
A pane of dragonfly wing, when they left me
Lay over the leaves like a clear cellophane,
A pane of dragonfly wing, when they left me
November 15, 2025 at 6:51 AM
Lit things, that lamp of the Possible! Wet yet
Lay over the leaves like a clear cellophane,
A pane of dragonfly wing, when they left me
Lay over the leaves like a clear cellophane,
A pane of dragonfly wing, when they left me
To choose between your world of jungle green
November 15, 2025 at 5:22 AM
To choose between your world of jungle green
The starched, inaccessible breast.
November 15, 2025 at 4:15 AM
The starched, inaccessible breast.
By a mad miracle I go intact
Among the common rout
Thronging sidewalk, street,
Among the common rout
Thronging sidewalk, street,
November 15, 2025 at 2:47 AM
By a mad miracle I go intact
Among the common rout
Thronging sidewalk, street,
Among the common rout
Thronging sidewalk, street,
Give grass its green
November 15, 2025 at 1:40 AM
Give grass its green
Bright as a Nazi lampshade,
November 15, 2025 at 12:11 AM
Bright as a Nazi lampshade,
No animal spoils on her green doorstep.
November 14, 2025 at 5:54 PM
No animal spoils on her green doorstep.
I see your cute decor
Close on you like the fist of a baby
Or an anemone, that sea
Close on you like the fist of a baby
Or an anemone, that sea
November 14, 2025 at 5:42 PM
I see your cute decor
Close on you like the fist of a baby
Or an anemone, that sea
Close on you like the fist of a baby
Or an anemone, that sea
The bald, white tumuli of your eyes.
November 14, 2025 at 3:40 PM
The bald, white tumuli of your eyes.
As wood and formal, in a jacket of ashes,
The whole flat harbor anchored in
The whole flat harbor anchored in
November 14, 2025 at 2:23 PM
As wood and formal, in a jacket of ashes,
The whole flat harbor anchored in
The whole flat harbor anchored in