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Fee-fi-fo-fum - Now I'm borrowed. Now I'm numb.

Anne Sexton

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Anne Sexton
Age: 45 †
Born: 1928
Born: November 9
Died: 1974
Died: October 4
Poet
Writer
Newton
Massachusetts
Anne Gray Harvey
Borrowed
Fees
Numb

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Take a woman talking, purging herself with rhymes, drumming words out like a typewriter, planting words in you like grass seed. You'll move off.
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I leave you, home, when I'm ripped from the doorstep by commerce or fate. Then I submit to the awful subway of the world.
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She is so naked and singular. She is the sum of yourself and your dream. Climb her like a monument, step after step. She is solid.
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I am not lazy. I am on the amphetamine of the soul. I am, each day, typing out the God my typewriter believes in.
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My faith is a great weight hung on a small wire, as doth the spider hang her baby on a thin web.
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Suicide is, after all, the opposite of the poem.
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One of my secret instructions to myself as a poet is Whatever you do, don't be boring.
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All day I've built a lifetime and now the sun sinks to undo it.
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I did not know the woman I would be nor that blood would bloom in me each month like an exotic flower, nor that children, two monuments, would break from between my legs.
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I am your dwarf. I am the enemy within. I am the boss of your dreams. See. Your hand shakes. It is not palsy or booze. It is your Doppelganger trying to get out. Beware...Beware...
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Blind with love, my daughter has cried nightly for horses, those long-necked marchers and churners that she has mastered, any and all, reigning them in like a circus hand.
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I was only sitting here in my white study with the awful black words pushing me around.
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My business is words. Words are like labels, or coins, or better, like swarming bees.
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No one to hate except the slim fish of memory that slides in and out of my brain.
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[I] have fantasies of killing myself and thus being the powerful one not the powerless one.
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Love your self's self where it lives.
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Rats live on no evil star
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True. There is a beautiful Jesus. He is frozen to his bones like a chunk of beef. How desperately he wanted to pull his arms in! How desperately I touch his vertical and horizontal axes! But I can't. Need is not quite belief.
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Watch out for love (unless it is true, and every part of you says yes including the toes), it will wrap you up like a mummy, and your scream won't be heard and none of your running will run.
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It doesn't matter who my father was it matters who I remember he was.
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