And what of the dead? They lie without shoes
in the stone boats. They are more like stone
than the sea would be if it stopped. They refuse
to be blessed, throat, eye and knucklebone.
Tags: heart
I am God, la de dah.
Anne SextonTags: poetry confessional-poetry
As it has been said:
Love and a cough
cannot be concealed.
Even a small cough.
Even a small love.
Tags: poetry
As for me, I am a watercolor.
I wash off.
Everyone in me is a bird
I am beating all my wings
Rats live on no evil star
Anne SextonI burn the way money burns.
Anne SextonAnne, I don't want to live. . . . Now listen, life is lovely, but I Can't Live It. I can't even explain. I know how silly it sounds . . . but if you knew how it Felt. To be alive, yes, alive, but not be able to live it. Ay that's the rub. I am like a stone that lives . . . locked outside of all that's real. . . . Anne, do you know of such things, can you hear???? I wish, or think I wish, that I were dying of something for then I could be brave, but to be not dying, and yet . . . and yet to [be] behind a wall, watching everyone fit in where I can't, to talk behind a gray foggy wall, to live but to not reach or to reach wrong . . . to do it all wrong . . . believe me, (can you?) . . . what's wrong. I want to belong. I'm like a jew who ends up in the wrong country. I'm not a part. I'm not a member. I'm frozen.
Anne SextonNow 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 ...
The joy that isn't shared dies young.
Anne SextonPage 1 of 13.
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