Quote

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.

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
Tongue
Catholics
Catholic
Tongues
Sex
Downtown
Childhood
Bike
Games
Club
Form
Stick
Peek
Clubs
Bushes
Sticks
Piss

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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 Its mouth opens four times as out-of-date as a prehistoric monster, yet somehow man-made.
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Jesus saw the multitudes were hungry and He said, Oh Lord, send down a short-order cook.
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Meanwhile in my head, I’m undergoing open-heart surgery.
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So I won't hang around in my hospital shift, repeating The Black Mass and all of it. I say Live, Live because of the sun, the dream, the excitable gift.
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Today God gives milk / and I have the pail.
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unless I can shake myself free of my dog, my flag, of my desk, my mind, I find life a bit of a drag. Not always, mind you. Usually I'm like my frying pan useful, graceful, sturdy and with no caper, no plan.
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And if I tried to give you something else, something outside myself, you would not know that the worst of anyone can be, finally, an accident of hope
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Put your mouthful of words away and come with me to watch the lilies open in such a field, growing there like yachts, slowly steering their petals without nurses or clocks.
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I said, the poets are there I hear them singing and lying around their round table and around me still.
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Now, in my middle age, about nineteen in the head I'd say, I am rowing, I am rowing.
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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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My faith is a great weight hung on a small wire, as doth the spider hang her baby on a thin web.
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Why are all these dolls falling out of the sky? Was there a father? Or have the planets cut holes in their nets and let our childhood out, or are we the dolls themselves, born but never fed?
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To die whole, riddled with nothing but desire for it, is like breakfast after love.
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When the cow gives blood and the Christ is born we must all eat sacrifices. We must all eat beautiful women.
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Our children tremble in their teen-age cribs, whirling off on a thumb or a motorcycle.
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My mouth blooms like a cut.
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Then God spoke to me and said: People say only good things about Christmas. If they want to say something bad, they whisper.
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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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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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