Quote

I remember the stink of the liverwurst. How I was put on a platter and laid between the mayonnaise and the bacon. The rhythm of the refrigerator had been disturbed.

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
Laid
Rhythm
Platter
Eating
Mayonnaise
Remember
Refrigerator
Refrigerators
Bacon
Stink
Disturbed

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The fish are naked. The fish are always awake. They are the color of old spoons and caramels.
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The tongue, the Chinese say, is like a sharp knife: it kills without drawing blood.
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All considerations for these human remains! They must have an escort! They are classified!
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We talked death with burned-up intensity, both of us drawn to it like moths to an electric light bulb. Sucking on it!
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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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Poetry is my life, my postmark, my hands, my kitchen, my face.
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it was my first doll that water went into and water came out of much earlier it was the diaper I wore and the dirt thereof and my mother hating me for it
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Then all this became history. Your hand found mine. Life rushed to my fingers like a blood clot. Oh, my carpenter, the fingers are rebuilt. They dance with yours.
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Once I was beautiful. Now I am myself, Counting this row and that row of moccasins Waiting on the silent shelf.
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Of course the New Testament is very small. Its mouth opens four times as out-of-date as a prehistoric monster, yet somehow man-made.
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Bless all useful objects, the spoons made of bone, the mattress I cook my dreams upon, the typewriter that is my church with an altar of keys always waiting.
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bike downtown, stick out tongues at the Catholics. Or form a Piss Club where we all go in the bushes and peek at each other's sex.
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Man is a bird full of mud, I say aloud. And death looks on with a casual eye and scratches his anus.
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I like you your eyes are full of language. [Letter to Anne Clarke, July 3, 1964.]
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I see myself as one would see another. I have been cut in two.
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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.
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.
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I tell it stories now and then and feed it images like honey. I will not speculate today with poems that think they're money.
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Some women marry houses. It's another kind of skin it has a heart, a mouth, a liver and bowel movements.
Anne Sexton
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I leave you, home, when I'm ripped from the doorstep by commerce or fate. Then I submit to the awful subway of the world.
Anne Sexton