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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.

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
Earth
Festering
Right
Gravy
Like
Oceans
Extinction
Caves
Merry
Ocean
Becoming

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My life has appeared unclothed in court, detail by detail, death-bone witness by death-bone witness, and I was shamed at the verdict.
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The silence is death. It comes each day with its shock to sit on my shoulder, a white bird, and peck at the black eyes and the vibrating red muscle of my mouth.
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My business is words. Words are like labels, or coins, or better, like swarming bees.
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There is rust in my mouth,the stain of an old kiss.
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At six I lived in a graveyard full of dolls, avoiding myself, my body, the suspect in its grotesque house.
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I sit at my desk each night with no place to go, opening the wrinkled maps of Milwaukee and Buffalo, the whole U.S., its cemeteries, its arbitrary time zones, through routes like small veins, capitals like small stones.
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I cannot walk an inch / without trying to walk to God.
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I am teaching... This year it's kind of like having a love affair with a rhinoceros.
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Daisies in water are the longest lasting flower you can give to someone. Fact. Buy daisies. Not roses.
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being sixteen in the pants I died full of questions
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I’ll put it out there: I am scarred by the nostalgic indicipherability of my own desires I an engulfed by the intimidating unknown, pushed through darkness and dragged down by the irretrievable past sweetness of my memories.
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The day of fire is coming, the thrush will fly ablaze like a little sky rocket.
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My eyes, those sluts, those whores, would play no more.
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Rats live on no evil star
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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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I think it will be a miracle if I don't someday end up killing myself.
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Thumbs grow into my throat. I wear slaps like a spot of rouge.
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think of innocent Icarus who is doing quite well: larger than a sail, over the fog and the blast of the plushy ocean, he goes. Admire his wings!
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I love you. You are closest to my heart, closer than any other human being. You are my extension. You are my prayer. You are my belief in God. For better or worse you inherit me.
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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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