Quote

Then all this became history. Your hand found mine. Life rushed to my fingers like a blood clot. Oh, my carpenter, the fingers are rebuilt. They dance with yours.

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
Found
Fingers
Hands
Mines
Life
Mine
Like
Dance
Became
Clot
Blood
Rebuilt
Hand
Rushed
History
Carpenter

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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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I think it will be a miracle if I don't someday end up killing myself.
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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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Poetry is my life, my postmark, my hands, my kitchen, my face.
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Poetry to me is prayer.
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As it has been said: Love and a cough cannot be concealed. Even a small cough. Even a small love.
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Cinderella and the prince lived, they say, happily ever after, like two dolls in a museum case never bothered by diapers or dust, never arguing over the timing of an egg, never telling the same story twice.
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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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God went out of me as if the sea dried up like sandpaper, as if the sun became a latrine.
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I said, the poets are there I hear them singing and lying around their round table and around me still.
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women are born twice.
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Our checks are pale. Our wallets are invalids. Past due, past due, is what our bills are saying and yet we kiss in every corner, scuffing the dust and the cat. Love rises like bread as we go bust.
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