Introduction to Anne Sexton page of g.t.
I am taking submissions for Volume II [March 11th]. You guys were so awesome last time, I can't wait to see what the next issue is like.
I can't remember to whom I promised copies, so leave a comment /&/ e-mail me your address. Danke.
I fell in love with Miss. Sexton last April.
After a few awkward stanzas of introduction, I realized she was more articulate than I, in regards to suicide. Granted, she was the more experienced.
I read her anxiously, searching for something I had missed. Her words, serrated and gleaming, made me ache.
Mid-March, I began courting my depression, exclusively. The romance thickened as spring faded to summer, and it quickly became dangerously, carelessly, blatantly obvious. Following a predictably impertunate and desperate interrogation, our love met secretly, in the shadows. Helios no longer heralded my days, but my twilight; the waning moon and faded starlight became increasingly comfortable. My eyes changed accordingly and grew a thin black film- my own sort of sunglasses, curtains for the windows to my soul. The insomnia, which had taken root in February, grew more powerful each night.
And, of course, HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY, my darlings!
I am going to make some tea (Hibiscus- get it, it is exquisite!) and watch "To Have & Have Not," and perhaps "Casablanca." I haven't watched Audrey in a while either...
I can't remember to whom I promised copies, so leave a comment /&/ e-mail me your address. Danke.
I fell in love with Miss. Sexton last April.
After a few awkward stanzas of introduction, I realized she was more articulate than I, in regards to suicide. Granted, she was the more experienced.
I read her anxiously, searching for something I had missed. Her words, serrated and gleaming, made me ache.
Mid-March, I began courting my depression, exclusively. The romance thickened as spring faded to summer, and it quickly became dangerously, carelessly, blatantly obvious. Following a predictably impertunate and desperate interrogation, our love met secretly, in the shadows. Helios no longer heralded my days, but my twilight; the waning moon and faded starlight became increasingly comfortable. My eyes changed accordingly and grew a thin black film- my own sort of sunglasses, curtains for the windows to my soul. The insomnia, which had taken root in February, grew more powerful each night.
And, of course, HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY, my darlings!
I am going to make some tea (Hibiscus- get it, it is exquisite!) and watch "To Have & Have Not," and perhaps "Casablanca." I haven't watched Audrey in a while either...