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 ...
Considera girl who keeps slipping off,arms limp as old carrots,into the hypnotist's trance,into a spirit worldspeaking with the gift of ...
Live or die, but don't poison everything… Well, death's been here for a long time — it has a hell ...
Put on a clean shirtbefore you die, some Russian said.Nothing with drool, please,no egg spots, no blood,no sweat, no sperm.You ...
Who will forgive me for the things I do?With no special legend of God to refer to,With my calm white ...
There they are drooping over the breakfast plates, angel-like, folding in their sad wing, animal sad, and only the night ...
That does not keep me from having a terrible need of — shall I say the word — religion. Then ...
A thousand doors agowhen I was a lonely kidin a big house with fourgarages and it was summeras long as ...
Ms. Sexton went out looking for the gods. She began looking in the sky -expecting a large white angel with ...
One day He tipped His top hat and walked out of the room, ending the argument. He stomped off saying: ...
There was a girl who danced in the city that night, that April 22nd, all along the Charles River. It ...
My God, my God, what queer corner am I in? Didn't I die, blood running down the post, lungs gagging ...
"Too many things are occurring for even a big heart to hold." - From an essay by W. B. Yeats ...
This singing is a kind of dying, a kind of birth, a votive candle. I have a dream-mother who sings ...
I am not lazy. I am on the amphetamine of the soul. I am, each day, typing out the God ...
Like Oedipus I am losing my sight. LIke Judas I have done my wrong. Their punishment is over; the shame ...
My doctor, the comedian I called you every time and made you laugh yourself when I wrote this silly rhyme... ...
My faith is a great weight hung on a small wire, as doth the spider hang her baby on a ...
I am torn in two but I will conquer myself. I will dig up the pride. I will take scissors ...
Who's she, that one in your arms? She's the one I carried my bones to and built a house that ...
Perhaps the earth is floating, I do not know. Perhaps the stars are little paper cutups made by some giant ...
One day He tipped His top hat and walked out of the room, ending the arguement. He stomped off saying: ...
A story, a story! (Let it go. Let it come.) I was stamped out like a Plymouth fender into this ...
"Young girls in old Arabia were often buried alive next to their fathers, apparently as sacrifice to the goddesses of ...
You, Doctor Martin, walk from breakfast to madness. Late August, I speed through the antiseptic tunnel where the moving dead ...
I would like to bury all the hating eyes under the sand somewhere off the North Atlantic and suffocate them ...
Jean, death comes close to us all, flapping its awful wings at us and the gluey wings crawl up our ...
Because there was no other place to flee to, I came back to the scene of the disordered senses, came ...
God loafs around heaven, without a shape but He would like to smoke His cigar or bite His fingernails and ...
When I was a child there was an old woman in our neighborhood whom we called The Witch. All day ...
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