Quote

With this pen I take in hand my selves and with these dead disciples I will grapple. Though rain curses the window let the poem be made.

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
Hand
Pens
Though
Poem
Hands
Curse
Self
Rain
Grapple
Take
Window
Curses
Made
Poet
Disciples
Poetry
Selves
Dead
Disciple

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When I lie down to love, old dwarf heart shakes her head. Like an imbecile she was born old.
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Fear / a motor, / pumps me around and around / until I fade slowly.
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Everyone in me is a bird I am beating all my wings
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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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I'm hunting for the truth. It might be a kind of poetic truth, and not just a factual one, because behind everything that happens to you, there is another truth, a secret life.
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Maybe I am becoming a hermit, opening the door for only a few special animals? Maybe my skull is too crowded and it has no opening through which to feed it soup?
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Don't bite till you know if it's bread or stone.
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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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Oh thumb, I want a drink it is dark, where are the big people, when will I get there...?
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All I am is the trick of words writing themselves.
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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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Death, I need my little addiction to you. I need that tiny voice who, even as I rise from the sea, all woman, all there, says kill me, kill me.
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Look to your heart that flutters in and out like a moth. God is not indifferent to your need. You have a thousand prayers but God has one.
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It was as if a morning-glory had bloomed in her throat, and all that blue and small pollen ate into my heart, violent and religious
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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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I see myself as one would see another. I have been cut in two.
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The joy that isn't shared dies young.
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Let the light be called Day so that men may grow corn or take busses.
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Nature is full of teeth that come in one by one, then decay, fall out.
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Love? Be it man. Be it woman. It must be a wave you want to glide in on, give your body to it, give your laugh to it, give, when the gravelly sand takes you, your tears to the land. To love another is something like prayer and can't be planned, you just fall into its arms because your belief undoes your disbelief.
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