My friend cowfish

I miss you!

There’s an essay about sound and syntax in Plath’s poem “Nick and the Candlestick” in the latest Writer’s Chronicle. I haven’t read it. But I will on my way to Atlanta today. “Nick and the Candlestick” is one of my favorite Plath poems. Her line breaks fuck shit up.

Here’s a taste:

Old cave of calcium
Icicles, old echoer.
Even the newts are white,

Those holy Joes.
And the fish, the fish—
Christ! they are panes of ice,

A vice of knives,
A piranha
Religion, drinking

It’s first communion out of my live toes. …