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It would be pleasant to be drunk.

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
Pleasant
Drunk
Would

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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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Abundance is scooped from abundance yet abundance remains.
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I see myself as one would see another. I have been cut in two.
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As for me, I am a watercolor. I wash off.
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Oh, darling, let your body in, let it tie you in, in comfort.
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Here in the hospital, I say,that is not my body, not my body.I am not here for the doctorsto read like a recipe.
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My sleeping pill is white. It is a splendid pearl it floats me out of myself, my stung skin as alien as a loose bolt of cloth.
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A woman who writes feels too much.
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Come, my pretender, my fritter, my bubbler, my chicken biddy! Oh succulent one, it is but one turn in the road and I would be a cannibal!
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And we are magic talking to itself, noisy and alone. I am queen of all my sins forgotten. Am I still lost? Once I was beautiful. Now I am myself
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Thumbs grow into my throat. I wear slaps like a spot of rouge.
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The snow has quietness in it no songs, no smells, no shouts or traffic. When I speak my own voice shocks me.
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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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God has a brown voice, as soft and full as beer.
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Pulling off the fat diamond engagement ring, pulling off the elopement wedding ring, and holding them, clicking them in thumb and forefinger, the indent of twenty-five years, like a tiny rip leaving its mark.
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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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The fish are naked. The fish are always awake. They are the color of old spoons and caramels.
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I was only sitting here in my white study with the awful black words pushing me around.
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I must always forget how one word is able to pick out another, to manner another, until I have got something I might have said... but did not.
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Nature is full of teeth that come in one by one, then decay, fall out.
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