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Cut What a thrill - My thumb instead of an onion. The top quite gone Except for a sort of hinge Of skin, A flap like a hat, Dead white. Then that red plush. – PowerPoint PPT presentation

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Title: Cut


1
Cut  What a thrill -My thumb instead of an
onion.The top quite goneExcept for a sort of
hingeOf skin,A flap like a hat,Dead
white.Then that red plush.Little pilgrim,The
Indian's axed your scalp.Your turkey
wattleCarpet rollsStraight from the heart.I
step on it,Clutching my bottleOf pink fizz. A
celebration, this is.Out of a gapA million
soldiers run,Redcoats, every one.
Whose side are they one?O myHomunculus, I am
ill.I have taken a pill to killThe thinPapery
feeling.Saboteur,Kamikaze man -The stain on
yourKu Klux KlanBabushkaDarkens and tarnishes
and whenThe balledPulp of your heartConfronts
its smallMill of silenceHow you jump
-Trepanned veteran,Dirty girl,Thumb stump.
Sylvia Plath
2
 Three Uses of Chopsticks from Hilo Rains By
Juliet S. Kono (Lee)   I. She drops her head
between her knees. Her long black hair flows
over. She gathers the strands, flips up her
head and twists her hair into a silken bun. She
takes a pair of chopsticks, sticks them into her
hair to hold it up together with an
orchid, chopsticks make a practical
decoration. The nape of her neck is
exposed tempting him to touch it. At the right
moment tonight she will pull out the
chopsticks like a knife and drop her hair for the
kill.  
II. Teeth-chipped red lacquer chopsticks with
wood exposed like flesh. She saves the old ones
for him. He uses the chopsticks to prop orchid
plants heavy with flowers. From her window, she
watches him stab into the cinder at the base of
the plants. He is careful of the aerial
roots-- blue-green veins more familiar now than
veins on her breasts that he once tracked after
parting her long, graying hair fallen across her
chest. She notices he binds chopsticks and stalks
with soft wire in an unlikely embrace, preventing
winds from toppling and crushing the plants.  
3
III. She walks down the path like a bride--white
orchids fluttering like butterflies in her
hands-- to where he waits for her. She loops
white hair straggling from her bun over an ear as
she walks. Fronting the small stoop near gas
burners, she bows, draws a pair of long steel
chopsticks from their case.  She picks up the
char-free bones left among the ashes fragments
of hip bones, pieces of skull, parts of
teeth. She drops them into an urn. She then ties
a black cloth around the copper box, sticks
flowers into the square knot, and folds her arms
around him and orchids.
4
So, she was come through wind and rain. Be sure
I looked up at her eyesHappy and proud at last
l knew Porphyria worshiped me surpriseMade my
heart swell, and still it grew While I debated
what to do.That moment she was mine, mine,
fair,Perfectly pure and good I foundA thing to
do, and all her hairIn one long yellow string l
wound Three times her little throat around,And
strangled her. No pain felt sheI am quite sure
she felt no pain. As a shut bud that holds a
bee,I warily oped her lids again Laughed the
blue eyes without a stain.And l untightened next
the tress About her neck her cheek once
moreBlushed bright beneath my burning kiss I
propped her head up as before, Only, this time
my shoulder boreHer head, which droops upon it
still The smiling rosy little head,So glad it
has its utmost will, That all it scorned at once
is fled, And I, its love, am gained
instead!Porphyria's love she guessed not how
Her darling one wish would be heard.And thus we
sit together now, And all night long we have not
stirred,And yet God has not said a word!
Porphyrias Lover (Robert Browning) The rain set
early in tonight,The sullen wind was soon awake,
It tore the elm-tops down for spite,And did its
worst to vex the lake I listened with heart fit
to break.When glided in Porphyria straight She
shut the cold out and the storm,And kneeled and
made the cheerless grate Blaze up, and all the
cottage warm Which done, she rose, and from her
formWithdrew the dripping cloak and shawl, And
laid her soiled gloves by, untiedHer hat and let
the damp hair fall, And, last, she sat down by
my side And called me. When no voice
replied,She put my arm about her waist,And made
her smooth white shoulder bare, And all her
yellow hair displaced,And, stooping, made my
cheek lie there, And spread, o'er all, her
yellow hair,Murmuring how she loved me she
Too weak, for all her heart's endeavor,To set
its struggling passion free From pride, and
vainer ties dissever, And give herself to me
forever.But passion sometimes would prevail,
Nor could tonight's gay feast restrainA sudden
thought of one so pale For love of her, and all
in vain
5
"Needs" A. R. Ammons I want something suited to
my special needs I want chrome hubcaps, pin-on
attachments and year round use year after year I
want a workhorse with smooth uniform cut, dozer
blade and snow blade deluxe steering wheel I
want something to mow, throw snow, tow and sow
with I want precision reel blades I want a
console styled dashboard I want an easy spintype
recoil starter I want combination bevel and spur
gears, 14 gauge stamped steel housing
and washable foam element air cleaner I want a
pivoting front axle and extrawide turf tires I
want an inch of foam rubber inside a vinyl
covering and especially if it's not too much, if
I can deserve it, even if I can't pay for it I
want to mow while riding.
6
Barbie Doll  This girlchild was born as
usualand presented dolls that did pee-peeand
miniature GE stoves and ironsand wee lipsticks
the color of cherry candy.Then in the magic of
puberty, a classmate saidYou have a great big
nose and fat legs. She was healthy, tested
intelligent,possessed strong arms and
back,abundant sexual drive and manual
dexterity.She went to and fro apologizing.Everyo
ne saw a fat nose on thick legs. She was
advised to play coy,exhorted to come on
hearty,exercise, diet, smile and wheedle.Her
good nature wore outlike a fan belt.So she cut
off her nose and her legsand offered them up.
In the casket displayed on satin she laywith the
undertaker's cosmetics painted on,a turned-up
putty nose,dressed in a pink and white
nightie.Doesn't she look pretty? everyone
said.Consummation at last.To every woman a
happy ending.
7
WoodchucksGassing the woodchucks didn't turn
out right.The knockout bomb from the Feed and
Grain Exchangewas featured as merciful, quick at
the boneand the case we had against them was
airtight,both exits shoehorned shut with
puddingstone,but they had a sub-sub-basement out
of range.Next morning they turned up again, no
worsefor the cyanide than we for our
cigarettesand state-store Scotch, all of us up
to scratch.They brought down the marigolds as a
matter of courseand then took over the vegetable
patchnipping the broccoli shoots, beheading the
carrots.The food from our mouths, I said,
righteously thrillingto the feel of the .22, the
bullets' neat noses.I, a lapsed pacifist fallen
from gracepuffed with Darwinian pieties for
killing,now drew a bead on the little
woodchuck's face.He died down in the everbearing
roses.Ten minutes later I dropped the
mother.Sheflipflopped in the air and fell, her
needle teethstill hooked in a leaf of early
Swiss chard.Another baby next.O
one-two-threethe murderer inside me rose up
hard,the hawkeye killer came on stage
forthwith.
There's one chuck left. Old wily fellow, he
keepsme cocked and ready day after day after
day.All night I hunt his humped-up form. I
dreamI sight along the barrel in my sleep.If
only they'd all consented to die unseengassed
underground the quiet Nazi way. Maxine Kumin
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