Visceral Anne Sexton

I love visceral poets. I love poetry made of flesh and bones, of marrow and heart. And pain. I was seventeen when I first read a poem by Anne Sexton. It was love at first sight. I could not help reading all she wrote from then onward and being so devastated by her words and life. I still retain the magical power with which a sentence of that poem hit me: "My mouth blooms like a cut." If only my verses could be as powerful as this! Anne remains a spirit guide.

Comments

  1. C. Margery KempeMarch 16, 2011 at 10:51 PM

    Mmmmmmarrow! I know what you mean. Poetry that cuts into your senses like a ragged saw.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Alessandra BavaMarch 16, 2011 at 11:11 PM

    Truly so, Kate!

    ReplyDelete
  3. John Claude SmithMarch 16, 2011 at 11:30 PM

    Visceral--one of my favorite words. I love fiction that digs in deep, that one feels in the same way as you have written here; and poetry, of course, of which I strive to leave a scar as well, or at least touch the soul.
    And trust me, your poetry knows 'visceral' intimately, dear.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Alessandra BavaMarch 16, 2011 at 11:43 PM

    Intimately, John? I love that! Thank you. :)

    ReplyDelete

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