A Moment To Remember Poet Anne Sexton

The brilliant and brilliantly troubled poet Anne Sexton passed away on this day in 1974, after a life touched with both greatness and tragedy; a Pulitzer Prize for poetry in 1967, her suicide in 1974.

Lauded as the archetypal “confessional” poet, to me she was a great sensualist, a mendicant at the door of meaning, seeking to render the intangible as imaginable. Because of the depths of honesty on display, much of her work is truly heartbreaking; in it you will find grief, loss, depression, and pain, but also beauty; a true understanding of beauty in all its irreconcilable dualities. The following is from a poem entitled “When The Glass Of My Body Broke”, and in it I find one of the great sensual references to wine ever written:

Oh mother of sex,
lady of the staggering cuddle,
where do these hands come from?
A man, a Moby Dick of a man,
a swimmer going up and down in his brain,
the gentleness of wine in his fingertips,
where do these hands come from?
I was born a glass baby and nobody picked me up
except to wash the dust off me.
He has picked me up and licked me alive.

We remember you Anne Sexton, and thank you for your beautiful, agonizing, and moving works.



Categories: Wine & Poetry

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