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I would like to bury all the hating eyes under the sand somewhere.

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
Like
Hating
Bury
Sand
Somewhere
Eyes
Eye
Hate
Would

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Craft is a trick you make up to let you write the poem.
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I grow old on my bitterness.
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When someone kisses someone or flushes the toilet it is my other who sits in a ball and cries. My other beats a tin drum in my heart. My other hangs up laundry as I try to sleep. My other cries and cries and cries when I put on a cocktail dress.
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I'll Vacuum up my stale hair, I'll pay all my neighbors' bad debts, I'll write a poem called Yellow and put my lips down to drink it up.
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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 suffer for birds and fireflies but not frogs, she said, and threw him across the room. Kaboom! Like a genie out of a samovar, a handsome prince arose in the corner of the bedroom.
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Yes I try to kill myself in small amounts, an innocuous occupation. Actually I'm hung up on it.
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All considerations for these human remains! They must have an escort! They are classified!
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Love your self's self where it lives.
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I must always forget how one word is able to pick out another, to manner another, until I have got something I might have said... but did not.
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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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When they turn the sun on again I'll plant children under it, I'll light up my soul with a match and let it sing.
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Don’t worry if they say you’re crazy. They said that about me and yet I was saner than all of them. I knew. No matter. You know. Insane or sane, you know. It’s a good thing to know - no matter what they call it.
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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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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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Rats live on no evil star
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But even in a telephone booth evil can seep out of the receiver and we must cover it with a mattress, and then tear it from its roots and bury it, bury it.
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Blue eyes wash off sometimes.
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I think of myself as writing for one person, that one perfect reader who understands and loves.
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After a disaster strikes, it can be very devastating and very challenging. You're going to need a lot of strength and energy, and the American Red Cross suggests you go for the high protein items.
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