To M— T—
these Live Fruits
from the Withered Garden
[Contents]
- [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]
I, MARY MACLANE