Potential Titles: Skipwith Cannell

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Teeth tearing bloodily at the sky's throat - Skipwith Cannell "The Coming of Night"

The blank wall by my window - Skipwith Cannell "The Coming of Night"

Lit my candle to make a song for you - Skipwith Cannell "The Coming of Night"

The cracked cup at my elbow - Skipwith Cannell "The Coming of Night"

My soul is a great plain made desolate - Skipwith Cannell "The Coming of Night"

Will not lay bricks for the homes of other men - Skipwith Cannell "A Dyptich: Scorn" [The Little Review, June-July 1916, v.3, no.4]

As befits one who has knowledge of his freedom - Skipwith Cannell "A Dyptich: The Deeper Scorn" [The Little Review, June-July 1916, v.3, no.4]

With feet clinging to the earth - Skipwith Cannell "Wild Songs: The Dance"

An old sorrow that has put out the sun - Skipwith Cannell "Wild Songs: The Dance"

As the moon drags the flood tide - Skipwith Cannell "Wild Songs: The Flood Tide"

Raging across the marshes - Skipwith Cannell "Wild Songs: The Flood Tide"

A ritual terrible and soothing - Skipwith Cannell "Wild Songs: The Flood Tide"

The old gods stand silently - Skipwith Cannell "Wild Songs: In the Forest"

Stand silently behind the silent trees - Skipwith Cannell "Wild Songs: In the Forest"


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