sylvia plath admires freddie mercury's mad song and has a nice poem for him to ponder

well certainly i am no stranger to madness!

therefore i do admire mr mercury

and his mad song

 also i enjoy

his art

 the drawing of mr hendrix of course

is wonderful so sad he died young

 the 

both of them

 too too soon

and myself of course 

i make three then don't i

here is my poem which is 

a good one

 not too too dark

hope you enjoy it

black rook in rainy weather

on the stiff twig up there

hunches a wet black rook

arranging and rearranging its feathers in the rain.

i do not expect a miracle 

or an accident

to set the sight on fire

in my eye, nor seek

any more desultory weather some design,

but let spotted leaves fall as they fall,

without ceremony, or portent.

although, i admit, i desire,

occasionally, some backtalk

from the mute sky, i can't honestly complain:

a certain minor light may still

lean incandescent

out of kitchen table or chair

as if a celestial burning took

possession of the most obtuse objects now and then-

thus hallowing an interval

otherwise inconsequent

by bestowing largesse, honor,

one might say love. at any rate, i now walk

wary (for it could happen

even in this dull, ruinous landscape); skeptical,

yet politic; ignorant

of whatever angel may choose to flare

suddenly at my elbow. i only know that a rook

ordering its black feathers can so shine

as to seize my senses, haul

my eyelids up, and grant

a brief respite from fear

of total neutrality. with luck,

trekking stubborn through this season

of fatigue, i shall

patch together a content

of sorts. miracles occur,

if you care to call those spasmodic

tricks of radiance miracles. the wait's begun again,

the long wait for the angel,

for that rare, random descent.

rest in peace 

mr mercury

love

sylvia