Unfinished Minds

The ocean when black and of the lake, coming for me dressed in black the swan boat. The second of it's two necks, it is black, ardently the other people. Does the black sky go up and over there into here somewhere? The black shadow your tuft must it over mine thus it cover? Black clouds. It filters out the light/hurried I write. Black littles from the pink open water sprouts out a many petaled flower. The leaf does not desire me but you in proper order so hurry. Those circles of dark advice around your eyes are level and complete. The cold world shakes my all from you my black it sucks from yours. Black as for unfinished minds is the fish without eyes it is ours that, it is. You open the star between the rose kissing lily. You don't become the blind other person that kind of black expression depending upon the hysterical smile you call a siren? This is the silence of the mind which is white never turned black and grey, I'm not surprised. Sylvia Plath, Crossing the River