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Reading With Sea

A book club on your own time

I have always loved everything about writing, sending and receiving actual letters.  From good paper, to hand made envelopes, to fountain pens to wax seals.  All of it.  I am also interested in the letter’s of other people, namely, authors and poets.  I have only a small collection of these types of books currently, but hope to continue to build them.  One of the books I have in my collection, which lives on my desk, is A Self-Portrait in Letters by Anne Sexton.  I have never been a fan of Anne Sexton’s poetry simply due to the way she writes, but her letters, are another story.

I love the frantic and rawness of her letters.  She has no direction, but the ones that her open seed bag of emotions allow her.  Her letters are loose and flowing and spontaneous and they leave drops of honey from every turn.  I wanted to share one with you.

[To Alfred Sexton]

“My Darling,

I miss you!  I adore you all over the page and all over the lonely house…. Your dear sweet face haunts the kitchen and in the bedroom I see the still made bed, and I know the quick void and loss of you […]
Kayo, I think I am beginning, and I do mean just beginning, to find myself – you realize that I MUST find my own self and be something or someone, not necessarily in any concrete manner, but in a personal manner – However, I am growing and I am doing it alone – perhaps you feel excluded in this but it can only happen alone… I feel the growth in one sharp way – I feel myself beginning to love you instead of just  need you.  I don’t think I have ever loved anyone in my life, not really – just needed them, wanted them to love me to possess me – to become such a part of someone that I could lose my frightened self… Now, I am learning – very slowly, with lots of backing and filling, but still learning… I find myself occasionally loving you not because I need you, or want your love, and feel in love – but rather an objective welling within my heart that comes from the sometimes whole person… whatever it is, I give it to you with no strings attached – You, my dear Kayo, I love.
In a way, it is like starting all over again – what we have had was good, but do you remember how I was always dissatisfied – I hope to reach the stage where I can stop begging for more and find myself giving regardless of what I get…
Do not resent my growth, darling, because it is bringing me closer to you in a more delicate way – closer because I want to be yours and not because you are my only refuge… In a way you will always be my only refuge – I am so half an orange without you –
Linda is a pixie – she had five friends romping in the playroom yesterday… “I had a fun time.  We played ghost and witch and we fighted and everything” – thus goes the child’s report on a three year old existence. – How fleeting it is – and how nievly (sp ha) special. […]
I am not depressed, except for the reality factor of no Kayo with a wispy wisp to love and tickle – […]
The doves are cooing in the pine tree and spring will come – will come – will come.
You will come home, too – and I can’t wait…
Kayo! your wife is proud of you – thank God for such as you in this world –
Last time you were in Chicago for the weekend I received a letter all about the undulating figures of the women and they slunk by your table – all the twos and twos while you were one … Put on blinders, Boots, I cannot bear to think of MY PETE waving stiff in the air for any other than me – I love Kayo and Boots and Peter –


Do any of you still write letters?



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