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And we are magic talking to itself, noisy and alone. I am queen of all my sins forgotten. Am I still lost? Once I was beautiful. Now I am myself

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
Still
Forgotten
Sin
Magic
Alone
Talking
Noisy
Lost
Queen
Beautiful
Queens
Stills
Sins

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O starry night, This is how I want to die
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I burn the way money burns.
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Earth, earthriding your merry-go-roundtoward extinction,right to the rootsthickening the oceans like gravy,festering in your caves,you are becoming a latrine.
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Now I am going back And I have ripped my hand From your hand as I said I would And I have made it this far.
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When the cow gives blood and the Christ is born we must all eat sacrifices. We must all eat beautiful women.
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Daylight is nobody's friend. God comes in like a landlord and flashes on his brassy lamp.
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Well, one gets out of bed and the planets don't always hiss or muck up the day, each day.
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I will be steel! I will build a steel bridge over my need! I will build a bomb shelter over my heart! But my future is a secret. It is as shy as a mole.
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There is joy in all: in the hair I brush each morning, in the Cannon towel, newly washed, that I rub my body with each morning.
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O yellow eye, let me be sick with your heat, let me be feverish and frowning.
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Poetry to me is prayer.
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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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The joy that isn't shared dies young.
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It is in the small things we see it. The child's first step, as awesome as an earthquake. The first time you rode a bike, wallowing up the sidewalk.
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They [daisies] are my favorite flower. There is something innocent and vulnerable about them as if they thanked you for admiring them.
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The beautiful feeling after writing a poem is on the whole better even than after sex, and that's saying a lot.
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What a lay me down this is with two pink, two orange, two green, two white goodnights.
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Being kissed on the back of the knee is a moth at the windowscreen.
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