lunes, octubre 23, 2006

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Was sent the following last week, with the message that it's "very fletcherian". Judge for yourself.

Just Once - Anne Sexton

Just once I knew what life was for.
In Boston, quite suddenly, I understood;
walked there along the Charles River,
watched the lights copying themselves,
all neoned and strobe-hearted, opening
their mouths as wide as opera singers;
counted the stars, my little campaigners,
my scar daisies, and knew that I walked my love
on the night green side of it and cried
my heart to the eastbound cars and cried
my heart to the westbound cars and took
my truth across a small humped bridge
and hurried my truth, the charm of it, home
and hoarded these constants into morning
only to find them gone.

1 Comments:

Anonymous Anónimo said...

An old friend of mine (SK) used to say " why couldn't it have been Anne Sexton who stuck her bloody head in the oven, instead of Sylvia...?!"

9:43 p. m.  

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