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I love the word warm. It is almost unbearable-- so moist and breathlike.

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
Warm
Almost
Word
Experience
Love
Moist
Unbearable
Warmth

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She is so naked and singular. She is the sum of yourself and your dream. Climb her like a monument, step after step. She is solid.
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I'm the crazy one who thinks that words reach people.
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Take your foot out of the graveyard, they are busy being dead.
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Blue eyes wash off sometimes.
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Now I am just an elderly lady who is full of spleen, who humps around greater Boston in a God-awful hat, who never lived and yet outlived her time, hating men and dogs and Democrats.
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My mouth blooms like a cut.
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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.
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life is a trick, life is a kitten in a sack.
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Let the light be called Day so that men may grow corn or take busses.
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The stars are pears that no one can reach, even for a wedding. Perhaps for a death.
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Love your self's self where it lives.
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They [daisies] are my favorite flower. There is something innocent and vulnerable about them as if they thanked you for admiring them.
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To be without God is to be a snake / who wants to swallow an elephant.
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Images are probably the most important part of the poem. First of all you want to tell a story, but images are what are going to shore it up and get to the heart of the matter.
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I imitatea memory of beliefthat I do not own.
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women are born twice.
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All day I've built a lifetime and now the sun sinks to undo it.
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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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I am crazy as hell, but I know it. And knowing it is a kind of sanity that makes the sickness worse.
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The soul was not cured, it was as full as a clothes closet of dresses that did not fit.
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