I lay by the moss of his skin until it grew strange. My sisters will never know that I fall out of myself and pretend that Allah will not see how I hold my daddy like an old stone tree. Analysis of The Moss of his Skin This is a short autobiographical poem disguised in a historical costume and culture.
Sexton explored the myths by and through which our culture lives and dies: She perceived, and consistently patterned in the images of her art, the paradoxes deeply rooted in human behavior and motivation.
Her poetry presents multiplicity and simplicity, duality and unity, the sacred and the profane, in ways that insist on their similarities--even, at times, their identity.
In less abstract terms, Sexton made explicit the intimacy of forces persistently treated as opposites by the society she lived in.
But another cautionary note is perhaps in order: Her poems articulate some of the deepest dilemmas of her contemporaries about their--our--most basic fears and wishes. Poets must transcend us in some ways to be counted great of mind, but they must also be of us.
Her poems vibrate in that energetic, passionate area between everlasting certainty and everlasting doubt. When she perceived the sameness of everything, it was against the background of the difference; when she perceived the difference, it was in reference to the sameness--just as metaphor, the imaging of connectedness, always implies a prior discontinuity.
Sexton flashed a sparkling, multiple light on human faces from the beginning of her writing career until the month of her death. For seventeen years she spoke in a direct, intimate way of people she loved.
|Anne Sexton Sexton, Anne - Essay - benjaminpohle.com||Already have an account? The stones cause the wolf to die by causing his stomach to tear open.|
|Anne Sexton's Life||Her relationships with her parents were difficult, perhaps even abusive.|
Her concentration on human relationships produced sharp, masterful portraits of people who were worth keeping alive, or worth resurrecting. Her personal relationship to many of those who people the world of her poems amplifies the resounding creation of whole, complicated characters whose compelling presence is perhaps more deeply artful for having been lived.
As it was, she most often worked from the life and perhaps must share her credit with those who died before her and those who have outlived her: I am glad there was or is an Eleanor Boylan, whatever name she bears.
When Sexton tells her dead father that she will bend down her strange face to his and forgive him, she is speaking of what we all need to do: When she calls her mother her mocking mirror, her overthrown love, her first image, she speaks for all of us of woman born and first nurtured against "her plump and fruity skin.
The mother of "life is not in my hands" tells a terrible truth, but she is also the mother of "Darling, stand still at your door, sure of yourself, a white stone, a good stone.
The friend who watches Eleanor Boylan talking with God, "as close as the ceiling," will warn her to speak quickly, "before death uses you up.
Certainly the connections between extremist art and suicide as a form of poetic destiny have been destructively romanticized. My intention in raising the point is not to confirm it but to suggest something that it indicates. The limited extent to which Sexton connected art and self-destruction may have been symptomatic of her illness.
I think she would have agreed: Poets are among the few whom our culture still invests with a ritual function. We ask them to speak the unspeakable for us, and when they do, we are capable of effecting a violently negative transference.
Particularly if the poet has exposed our pain, seen into our darkest selves, we need to purge ourselves of the violating member, to punish the one who has broken boundaries and violated taboos.
That Christianity depends for salvation on a sacrificial lamb whose death permits us to abrogate responsibility for the human failings we call "sin" speaks of our need to transfer guilt. But to whatever extent she may have been martyred, it was at the invitation, if not the insistence, of an exceptionally hungry audience.
Yet we are angry with Anne Sexton for killing herself, partly because she is the same poet who wrote with such commitment and intensity of the delight of being alive.In the last part of "Anne Sexton at Home" (above), the poet reads perhaps her most explicit work about her many suicide attempts, “Wanting to Die.”In a brief introduction, she says, “I can explain sex in a minute, but death, I can’t explain.".
Anne Sexton was a brilliant poet and wrote many excellent pieces of poetry and at close of day it is the poetry that really matters.
Stephen W (7/27/ AM) Read her bio. Rise B. Axelrod's "The Transforming Art of Anne Sexton" suggests that in “Transformations, Sexton makes explicit the mythology of maturation and satirically criticizes the repressiveness of modern society” (Axelrod).
Propriety is an issue in Sexton’s “Red Riding Hood”; a reason to why she used the Brothers Grimm version of “Red. Jan 19, · Anne Sexton, for most of her adult life, struggled to bridge the gap between a normal life and the unpredictable demands of her mental illness.
'All I wanted was a little piece of life Reviews: - Anne Sexton The third decade of the twentieth century brought on more explicit writers than ever before, but none were as expressive as Anne Sexton. Her style of writing, her works, the image that she created, and the crazy life that she led are all prime examples of this.
Anne Sexton was born Anne Gray Harvey on 9 November , in Newton, Massachusetts. Her father was Ralph Harvey, a successful woolen manufacturer and her mother was Mary Gray Staples.
Though she was raised in comfortable middle-class circumstances in Weston, Massachusetts, she was not at all happy with her benjaminpohle.com Of Birth: Newton, Massachusetts, United States.