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We talked death with burned-up intensity, both of us drawn to it like moths to an electric light bulb. Sucking on it!

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
Electric
Burned
Talked
Intensity
Drawn
Bulb
Death
Sucking
Light
Moths
Like
Bulbs

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being sixteen in the pants I died full of questions
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Though rain curses the window let the poem be made.
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The future is a fog that is still hanging out over the sea, a boat that floats home or does not. The trade winds blow me, and I do not know where the land is the waves fold over each other they are in love with themselves sleeping in their own skin and I float over them and I do not know about tomorrow.
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This is what poems are: with mercy for the greedy, they are the tongue's wrangle, the world's pottage, the rat's star.
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Poetry is my life, my postmark, my hands, my kitchen, my face.
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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
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Not that it was beautiful, but that I found some order there.
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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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When I'm writing, I know I'm doing the thing I was born to do.
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I’m lost. And it’s my own fault. It’s about time I figured out that I can’t ask people to keep me found.
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The place I live in is a kind of maze and I keep seeking the exit or the home.
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There is rust in my mouth,the stain of an old kiss.
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And thus Snow White became the prince's bride. The wicked queen was invited to the wedding feast and when she arrived there were red-hot iron shoes, in the manner of red-hot roller skates, clamped upon her feet.
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Meanwhile in my head, I’m undergoing open-heart surgery.
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[I] have fantasies of killing myself and thus being the powerful one not the powerless one.
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Even without wars, life is dangerous.
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I see myself as one would see another. I have been cut in two.
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Evil is maybe lying to God. Or better, lying to love.
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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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Fear / a motor, / pumps me around and around / until I fade slowly.
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