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Jim Morrison

I am troubled, immeasurably by your eyes. I am struck by the feather of your soft reply. The sound of glass speaks quick, disdain and conceals what your eyes fight to explain. ― Jim Morrison, Wilderness: The Lost Writings, Vol. (Vintage; 1st Vintage Books ed edition, December 17, 1989) Originally published 1988.

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American Culture · American Literature · Classic · Collection · Confessional · Excerpt · Modernism · Passage · Poetry

Sylvia Plath

And I slept on like a bent finger. The first thing I saw was sheer air And the locked drops rising in a dew Limpid as spirits. Many stones lay Dense and expressionless round about. I didn’t know what to make of it. I shone, mica-scaled, and unfolded To pour myself out like a fluid… Continue reading Sylvia Plath

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