Sexton uses the term godhead a lot in her poems. The the artist's doomed longing for something divine and peaceful in her work is something that I appreciate, and the inevitable return to the poison that makes her such a good poet but also a shitty mother, partner, and overall human being.
In the end, that little bird took Anne Sexton to “death’s sad bone,” which haunted her through long bouts of depression for much of her life. But what a trove of poems she left us in her box of immortality, her coffin.
Always tangible thoughts…
I need this wonderful world of outlaws!
Sexton uses the term godhead a lot in her poems. The the artist's doomed longing for something divine and peaceful in her work is something that I appreciate, and the inevitable return to the poison that makes her such a good poet but also a shitty mother, partner, and overall human being.
Love the photograph, too. Do you know whose it is?
I was thinking exactly the same! What a lovely photograph...
The best best bestest
"He want to die changing his clothes/ and bolt for the sun like a diamond" is so crazy. This poem is so rich in strange, beautiful images.
In the end, that little bird took Anne Sexton to “death’s sad bone,” which haunted her through long bouts of depression for much of her life. But what a trove of poems she left us in her box of immortality, her coffin.
Thanks for sharing this one today.
A magnificent piece!!!
The folly of the sane who select what flights in the brain may stay or leave.