The first time I was introduced to Anne Sexton was through a girlfriend. We were discussing Van Gogh’s famous painting Starry Night, and she said “Oh starry night! This is how I want to die.” I thought Christ that’s a bit morbid, and she laughed explaining that it was an Anne Sexton poem. To this day that infernal ear-worm, “Oh starry night! This is how I want to die,” rings in my ears each time I look at that painting of Van Gogh’s and when Sexton’s name is mentioned.
Sexton was such a complicated lady, but in my eyes a superior poet to Plath. Wish she'd have added some prose to the world. "Oh love, why do we argue like this?" I've said the same thing in a half dozen relationships ;)
The first time I was introduced to Anne Sexton was through a girlfriend. We were discussing Van Gogh’s famous painting Starry Night, and she said “Oh starry night! This is how I want to die.” I thought Christ that’s a bit morbid, and she laughed explaining that it was an Anne Sexton poem. To this day that infernal ear-worm, “Oh starry night! This is how I want to die,” rings in my ears each time I look at that painting of Van Gogh’s and when Sexton’s name is mentioned.
Sexton was such a complicated lady, but in my eyes a superior poet to Plath. Wish she'd have added some prose to the world. "Oh love, why do we argue like this?" I've said the same thing in a half dozen relationships ;)
Seems like mortality's on your mind, Erik.
I love this. Brilliant.
Living with the pre-dead, those who are already ghosts.