Quote

I have a black look I do not like. It is a mask I try on. I migrate toward it and its frog sits on my lips and defecates.

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
Lips
Anger
Toward
Black
Migrate
Look
Frog
Looks
Frogs
Trying
Sits
Like
Mask

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I think I've been writing black poems all along, wearing my white mask. I'm always the victim ... but no longer!
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Only my books anoint me, and a few friends, those who reach into my veins.
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I am not at home in myself. I am my own stranger.
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I've grown tired of love You are the trouble with me I watch you walk right by
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The sea is mother-death and she is a mighty female, the one who wins, the one who sucks us all up.
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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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It is a dead heart. It is inside of me. It is a stranger yet once it was agreeable, opening and closing like a clam.
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Blue eyes wash off sometimes.
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Those moments before a poem comes, when the heightened awareness comes over you, and you realize a poem is buried there somewhere, you prepare yourself. I run around, you know, kind of skipping around the house, marvelous elation. It’s as though I could fly.
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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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Despite my asbestos gloves, the cough is filling me with black, and a red powder seeps through my veins.
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Let there be seasons so that our tongues will be rich in asparagus and limes.
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Suicides have a special language. Like carpenters they want to know which tools. They never ask why build.
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Emerald as heavy as a golf course, ruby as dark as an afterbirth, diamond as white as sun on the sea.
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I can only sign over everything, the house, the dog, the ladders, the jewels, the soul, the family tree, the mailbox. Then I can sleep. Maybe.
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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's all a matter of history. Brandy is no solace. Librium only lies me down like a dead snow queen. Yes! I am still the criminal.
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