these texts are an archive of my life in the San Francisco Bay Area from march 2007 - march 2015. it stands as a record of close to a decade of my life, charting the struggles i faced as an artist, daughter, and lover. messy and chaotic at times, eloquent and poetic at others, these texts are an index i am proud of. it was here in this electric box that i learned how to be honest about my experiences and the person i needed to become. it was here that i first learned the truism that words make the world and how to trust such a beautiful, rife, hard fact.

thank you for meeting me here in such tall grass.


my artist website is here.

Apr 9, 2010

poem to fit the day...

.


GHOSTS



Some ghosts are women,
neither abstract nor pale,
their breasts as limp as killed fish.
Not witches, but ghosts
who come, moving their useless arms
like forsaken servants.

Not all ghosts are women,
I have seen others;
fat, white-bellied men,
wearing their genitals like old rags.
Not devils, but ghosts.
This one thumps barefoot, lurching
above my bed.

But that isn't all.
Some ghosts are children.
Not angels, but ghosts;
curling like pink teacups
on any pillow, or kicking,
showing their innocent bottoms, wailing
for Lucifer.




-Anne Sexton

3 comments:

Alesa Warcan said...

Interesting form...

If the following strikes you as irreverent, please delete it.
Meant merely as jest.

Who you gonna call?
Some ghosts are busted
By actors in a movie
Not characters but ghosts
Brought back from the dead
For profit.

Elisabeth said...

I find this very beautiful Angela, haunting and resonant.

In stirs me up from deep inside, especially these images: these women with 'breasts as limp as killed fish'; these 'white-bellied men , wearing their genitals like old rags' and these children, 'showing their innocent bottoms, wailing for Lucifer'.

I am in awe.

angela simione said...

i haven't read any of anne sexton's work in about a year, and the good thing about having such a long break from it was that when i openned her books today, the weight of what she did hit me like a ton of bricks. it made me miss her. badly.