09-11-2011, 08:43 PM
There's something decidedly unpoetic
about Anne Sexton touching her kids.
Sometimes the Boston housewife seems
more akin to dead rock stars than Blake,
Shelley or Frost. Her nihilism, darkling faith,
how she relied on both to live,
the descent into sickness and death.
How teenagers who laud sadness,
and being thought outside the norm,
have claimed her like a grim Scout badge.
When I think of Sexton I don't think of Blake
poised at his desk for some painter,
I imagine Kurt Cobain doodling the lyrics to
a generation's get out clause.
about Anne Sexton touching her kids.
Sometimes the Boston housewife seems
more akin to dead rock stars than Blake,
Shelley or Frost. Her nihilism, darkling faith,
how she relied on both to live,
the descent into sickness and death.
How teenagers who laud sadness,
and being thought outside the norm,
have claimed her like a grim Scout badge.
When I think of Sexton I don't think of Blake
poised at his desk for some painter,
I imagine Kurt Cobain doodling the lyrics to
a generation's get out clause.
"We believe that we invent symbols. The truth is that they invent us; we are their creatures, shaped by their hard, defining edges." - Gene Wolfe