A crucible of my own making
Half inevitably, half by choice
A twisted moral
Everyday and to-morrow
A mathematic dead-wall
My neat blue chair
A lost person
A thin damnedness
A prison of self
A winding sheet
The Dover road
The harp of worn strings
A strongly-windy Saturday
A someway separate individual
Sincerity and despair
It’s not death
A human prerogative
The merciless beauty
My shoes
An eerie quality
A helliad
Swift go my days
By the blood of dead Americans
To express me
Bastard lacy valentines
Sweet fine sweatings of blood
Instinct—a ‘first law’
Loose twos
Knitting or plaiting straw
A life-long lonely word
Their voices
My damns
To God, care of the whistling winds
A working diaphragm
Lot’s wife
My echoing footsteps
A comfortably vicious person
In my black dress and my still room
Their little shoes
The sleep of the dead
Stickily mad
God compensates me
The strange braveness
Just beneath my skin
God’s kindly caprice
A fascinating creature
No resonance
Black-browed Wednesdays
The conscious analyst
Eye when I mean tooth
A wild mare
The mist
A white liner
Beneficent bedlam
A deathly pathos
The necklace
Slyly garbling and cross-purposing
Not quite voilà-tout
A damned spider
To wander and hang and float about
A thousand kisses
A fluttering-moth wish
Twenty inches of ajarness
A profoundly delicious idea
A mountebank’s cloak
A familiar sharp twist
A dark bright fierce fire
Late afternoon
An ancient witch-light
The gray-purple
The subdivided cell
Food and fire
The edge of mist-and-silver
A right shape and size
Ice-water, corrosive acid and human breath
Rhythm
A prayer-feeling
