impressions : the death notebook.

"it makes me laugh
to see woman in this condition
it makes me laugh for america and new york city
when you'r hands are cut off
and no one answers the phone"
 death is to ann sexton, in this thin poetry volume, much larger and vaster and more frequent then the mere process of decaying and ceasing to be, to ann, a clinically depressed poet, a women deprived of her rights, the function of everyday living, the very stale motions and actions taken, are death it's self.
"once upon a time we were all born,
popped out like jelly rolls
forgetting our fishdom
the pleasuring seas
the country of comfort
spanked into the oxygens of death,
good morning life, we say when we wake,
hail mary coffe toast
and we americans take juice
a liquid sun going down
good morning life.
to wake up is to be born.
to brush your teeth is to be alive.
to make a bowl movement is also desirable.
la de dah,
it's all routine"
ann sexton, being the free spirited, feminist, intellectual she was, was doomed for her mother's life of the 1960s rural suburbs,  terrifying as it is, to have children and a household, and a kitchen when all that is on her mind, is death and poetry, the poetry of death, and the death of poetry.
"if my mother had lived to see it
she would have put a WANTED sign up in the post office
for the black, the red, the blue I'v worn.
still, it would be perfectly fine with me
to die like a nice girl
smelling of clorox and duz.
being sixteen-in the pants
I would die full of question."
once more, she was clearly oppressed, 60's society patronising her for her sexuality, assuming she is to be a housewife, a cleansed, pure unpromiscuous housewife.
with a much, much forgotten life.
bu ann was anything but.
sexton had had a very disturbed history with mental illness and eventually ended her own life.
as many other poets and artist, has drawn a beautiful, melancholy, poetic, perhaps distraught picture of death as a sort of salvation.
despite my disagreeing with so many things she believes (our religious beliefs for one)
I believe i total unbiasedness when it comes to jugging a work of art.
this was defiantly beautiful in its accurate, romantic portrayal of sexual oppression, and exploration of possibilities of life and death.
at times even, stark, pure anger.
"give me some tomato aspic, helen!
I do not want to be alone"