Sylvia Plath

A Sorcerer Bids Farewell To Seem

I'm through with this grand looking-glass hotel where adjectives play croquet with flamingo nouns; methinks I shall absent me for a while from rhetoric of these rococo queens. Item : chuck out royal rigmarole of props and auction off each rare white-rabbit verb; send my muse Alice packing with gaudy scraps of mushroom simile and gryphon garb. My native sleight-of-hand is wearing out : mad hatter's hat yields no new metaphor, and jabberwock will not translate his songs : it's time to vanish like the cheshire cat alone to that authentic island where cabbages are cabbages; kings : kings.