ariel tattoos

via instagram @jdalkmintattoo

(Please don’t forget to also like the picture there)



The word of a snail on the plate of a leaf?
It is not mine. Do not accept it.

Acetic acid in a sealed tin?
Do not accept it. It is not genuine.

A ring of gold with the sun in it?
Lies. Lies and a grief.

Frost on a leaf, the immaculate
Cauldron, talking and crackling

All to itself on top of each
Of nine black Alps.

A disturbance in mirrors,
The sea shattering its grey one–

Love, love, my season.

—Sylvia Plath, written 4 November 1962, Ariel, 1965

via instagram @anniefog

(Please don’t forget to also like the picture there)



Stasis in darkness.
Then the substanceless blue
Pour of tor and distances.

God’s lioness,
How one we grow,
Pivot of heels and knees! - The furrow

Splits and passes, sister to
The brown arc
Of the neck I cannot catch,

Berries cast dark
Hooks -

Black sweet blood mouthfuls,
Something else

Hauls me through air -
Thighs, hair;
Flakes from my heels.

Godiva, I unpeel -
Dead hands, dead stringencies.

And now I
Foam to wheat, a glitter of seas.
The child’s cry

Melts in the wall.
And I
Am the arrow,

The dew that flies
Suicidal, at one with the drive
Into the red

Eye, the cauldron of morning.

—Sylvia Plath, “Ariel”, written 27 October 1961, Ariel, 1965

            “Meadow-Flowers” by Sylvia Plath. Pen and ink on paper.