by banannalouise

And now you try

Your handful of notes;

The clear vowels rise like balloons.

-“Morning Song” by Sylvia Plath

The sea of spuming thought foists up again

The radiant bubble that she was.

–   “Le Monocle de Mon Oncle” by Wallace Stevens

“Shall she not find in comforts of the sun,

In pungent fruit and bright, green wings, or else

In any balm or beauty of the earth,

Things to be cherished like the thought of heaven?”

-“Sunday Morning” by Wallace Stevens

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