Hurry Up Please It’s Time (Anne Sexton Poems)
What is death, I ask. What is life, you ask. I give them both my buttocks, my two wheels rolling ...
What is death, I ask. What is life, you ask. I give them both my buttocks, my two wheels rolling ...
Angels of the love affair, do you know that other,the dark one, that other me?1. ANGEL OF FIRE AND GENITALSAngel ...
Considera girl who keeps slipping off,arms limp as old carrots,into the hypnotist's trance,into a spirit worldspeaking with the gift of ...
You always read about it:the plumber with the twelve childrenwho wins the Irish Sweepstakes.From toilets to riches.That story.Or the nursemaid,some ...
Live or die, but don't poison everything… Well, death's been here for a long time — it has a hell ...
You speak to me of narcissism but I reply that it is a matter of my life - Artaud"At this ...
Oh sharp diamond, my mother! I could not count the cost of all your faces, your moods- that present that ...
I was tired of being a woman,tired of the spoons and the post,tired of my mouth and my breasts,tired of ...
Earth, earth,riding your merry-go-roundtoward extinction,right to the roots,thickening the oceans like gravy,festering in your caves,you are becoming a latrine.Your trees ...
Who is he?A railroad track toward hell?Breaking like a stick of furniture?The hope that suddenly overflows the cesspool?The love that ...
Consider Icarus, pasting those sticky wintgs on, testing that strange little tug at his shoulder blade, and think of that ...
My dear, it was a moment to clutch for a moment so that you may believe in it and believing ...
If you danced from midnight to six A.M. who would understand? The runaway boy who chucks it all to live ...
A woman who loves a woman is forever young. The mentor and the student feed off each other. Many a ...
We are born with luck which is to say with gold in our mouth. As new and smooth as a ...
Here, in the room of my life the objects keep changing. Ashtrays to cry into, the suffering brother of the ...
A woman who writes feels too much, those trances and portents! As if cycles and children and islands weren't enough; ...
"Young girls in old Arabia were often buried alive next to their fathers, apparently as sacrifice to the goddesses of ...
The summer sun ray shifts through a suspicious tree. though I walk through the valley of the shadow It sucks ...
His awful skin stretched out by some tradesman is like my skin, here between my fingers, a kind of webbing, ...
Everything here is yellow and green. Listen to its throat, its earthskin, the bone dry voices of the peepers as ...
Under my bowels, yellow with smoke, it waits. Under my eyes, those milk bunnies, it waits. It is waiting. It ...
Darkness as black as your eyelid, poketricks of stars, the yellow mouth, the smell of a stranger, dawn coming up, ...
If I could blame it all on the weather, the snow like the cadaver's table, the trees turned into knitting ...
Where I waved at the sky And waited your love through a February sleep, I saw birds swinging in, watched ...
1. Mother, my Mary Gray, once resident of Gloucester and Essex County, a photostat of your will arrived in the ...
Be careful of words, even the miraculous ones. For the miraculous we do our best, sometimes they swarm like insects ...
Consider Icarus, pasting those sticky wintgs on, testing that strange little tug at his shoulder blade, and think of that ...
You always read about it: the plumber with the twelve children who wins the Irish Sweepstakes. From toilets to riches. ...
"You speak to me of narcissism but I reply that it is a matter of my life" - Artaud "At ...
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