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Let God be some tribal female who is known but forbidden.

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
Tribal
Forbidden
God
Female
Known

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Suicide is, after all, the opposite of the poem.
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I like you your eyes are full of language. [Letter to Anne Clarke, July 3, 1964.]
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One of my secret instructions to myself as a poet is Whatever you do, don't be boring.
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Women tell time by the body. They are like clocks. They are always fastened to the earth, listening for its small animal noises.
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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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Poetry to me is prayer.
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And within the house ashes are being stuffed into my marriage, fury is lapping the walls, dishes crack on the shelves, a strangler needs my throat, the daughter has ceased to eat anything.
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Today is made of yesterday, each time I steal toward rites I do not know, waiting for the lost ingredient, as if salt or money or even lust would keep us calm and prove us whole at last.
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No one to hate except the slim fish of memory that slides in and out of my brain.
Anne Sexton
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I would like to bury all the hating eyes under the sand somewhere.
Anne Sexton
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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.
Anne Sexton
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Put your ear down close to your soul and listen hard.
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we do not explain my husband's insane abuse and we do not say why your wild-haired wife has fled or that my father opened like a walnut and then was dead. Your palms fold over me like knees. Love is the only use.
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Letters are false really - they are expressions of the way you wish you were instead of the way you are.
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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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God went out of me as if the sea dried up like sandpaper, as if the sun became a latrine. God went out of my fingers. They became stone. My body became a side of mutton and despair roamed the slaughterhouse.
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I am not lazy. I am on the amphetamine of the soul. I am, each day, typing out the God my typewriter believes in.
Anne Sexton
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All I am is the trick of words writing themselves.
Anne Sexton
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The sanest thing in this world is love.
Anne Sexton
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I am out of practice at living. You are as brave as a motorcycle.
Anne Sexton