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What about Plath's sometime death-discussing, cocktail-drinking partner's The Awful Rowing Towards God. I think Sexton wrote several brilliant poems that equal Plath at her best. She wrote too much though. And to hear her read is spooky. I still can't equate the voice with the face, even when I try to see her there, clutching her softpack of Salems, or was it Kool, leaning forward over some podium, saying "We harvested, we harvested." best Anthony %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%