Plath

As I leafed through a flashy hardcover edition of Sylvia Plath's Ariel tonight, I briefly fathomed the value of full trains of thought. Here a published had felt it worthwhile to reprint her famous collection with, it boasted, fascimiles of her drafts. I told myself not to be seduced by the geniuses of capitalism making my favorite goddess of poetry into a revising nymph, and yet my aspiring poet eyes hungrily reveled in the familiar and unfamiliar editing maneuvers. I had the sensation 0f that glaciel process of inching closer to an understanding of how to possess the energy of language.