The Black Art (Anne Sexton Poems)
A woman who writes feels too much, those trances and portents! As if cycles and children and islands weren't enough; ...
Anne Sexton Poems (219 Poems)
The Fury Of Abandonment (Anne Sexton Poems)
Someone lives in a cave eating his toes, I know that much. Someone little lives under a bush pressing an ...
The Break (Anne Sexton Poems)
It was also my violent heart that broke, falling down the front hall stairs. It was also a message I ...
In Excelsis (Anne Sexton Poems)
It is half winter, half spring, and Barbara and I are standing confronting the ocean. Its mouth is open very ...
A Story For Rose On The Midnight Flight To Boston (Anne Sexton Poems)
Until tonight they were separate specialties, different stories, the best of their own worst. Riding my warm cabin home, I ...
The Inventory Of Goodbye (Anne Sexton Poems)
I have a pack of letters, I have a pack of memories. I could cut out the eyes of both. ...
For John, Who Begs Me Not To Enquire Further (Anne Sexton Poems)
Not that it was beautiful, but that, in the end, there was a certain sense of order there; something worth ...
Old (Anne Sexton Poems)
I'm afraid of needles. I'm tired of rubber sheets and tubes. I'm tired of faces that I don't know and ...
The Assassin (Anne Sexton Poems)
The correct death is written in. I will fill the need. My bow is stiff. My bow is in readiness. ...
The Fury Of Flowers And Worms (Anne Sexton Poems)
Let the flowers make a journey on Monday so that I can see ten daisies in a blue vase with ...
August 8th (Anne Sexton Poems)
And do not be indiscreet or unconventional. Play it safe. Listen here. I've never played it safe in spite of ...
Mr. Mine (Anne Sexton Poems)
Notice how he has numbered the blue veins in my breast. Moreover there are ten freckles. Now he goes left. ...
That Day (Anne Sexton Poems)
This is the desk I sit at and this is the desk where I love you too much and this ...
The Civil War (Anne Sexton Poems)
I am torn in two but I will conquer myself. I will dig up the pride. I will take scissors ...
The Fury Of Hating Eyes (Anne Sexton Poems)
I would like to bury all the hating eyes under the sand somewhere off the North Atlantic and suffocate them ...
The Fury Of Jewels And Coal (Anne Sexton Poems)
Many a miner has gone into the deep pit to receive the dust of a kiss, an ore-cell. He has ...
Some Foreign Letters (Anne Sexton Poems)
I knew you forever and you were always old, soft white lady of my heart. Surely you would scold me ...
A Curse Against Elegies (Anne Sexton Poems)
Oh, love, why do we argue like this? I am tired of all your pious talk. Also, I am tired ...
The Witch’s Life (Anne Sexton Poems)
When I was a child there was an old woman in our neighborhood whom we called The Witch. All day ...
The Children (Anne Sexton Poems)
The children are all crying in their pens and the surf carries their cries away. They are old men who ...
The Poet Of Ignorance (Anne Sexton Poems)
Perhaps the earth is floating, I do not know. Perhaps the stars are little paper cutups made by some giant ...
The Fury Of Sunsets (Anne Sexton Poems)
Something cold is in the air, an aura of ice and phlegm. All day I've built a lifetime and now ...
The Earth Falls Down (Anne Sexton Poems)
If I could blame it all on the weather, the snow like the cadaver's table, the trees turned into knitting ...
Small Wire (Anne Sexton Poems)
My faith is a great weight hung on a small wire, as doth the spider hang her baby on a ...
After Auschwitz (Anne Sexton Poems)
Anger, as black as a hook, overtakes me. Each day, each Nazi took, at 8:00 A.M., a baby and sauteed ...
The Breast (Anne Sexton Poems)
This is the key to it. This is the key to everything. Preciously. I am worse than the gamekeeper's children ...
The Dead Heart (Anne Sexton Poems)
After I wrote this, a friend scrawled on this page, "Yes." And I said, merely to myself, "I wish it ...
The Break Away (Anne Sexton Poems)
Your daisies have come on the day of my divorce: the courtroom a cement box, a gas chamber for the ...
It Is A Spring Afternoon (Anne Sexton Poems)
Everything here is yellow and green. Listen to its throat, its earthskin, the bone dry voices of the peepers as ...
The Doctor Of The Heart (Anne Sexton Poems)
Take away your knowledge, Doktor. It doesn't butter me up. You say my heart is sick unto. You ought to ...