Wallace Stevens occupies a remarkably varied position within the depth-psychology corpus: he is simultaneously a poet of exemplary sensory intelligence, a daemon-possessed maker of supreme fictions, a psychological case study in shadow failure, and a philosophic ally in the discourse of imagination as therapeutic and ontological fact. Harold Bloom, in The Daemon Knows, constructs Stevens as one of the twelve creators of the American Sublime, arguing that Stevens is possessed by ‘the rival daemon of a Supreme Fiction’ and treating his major poems — Notes Toward a Supreme Fiction, The Auroras of Autumn, The Owl in the Sarcophagus — as sustained engagements with Whitman’s overwhelming priority and with the mother-muse Stevens could neither fully embrace nor definitively dismiss. Robert Bly, by contrast, reads Stevens against the grain of hagiographic criticism, finding in the late poems evidence of a psychic failure: the shadow was never integrated, the sensory richness of the early work gave way to a ‘white nightgown mentality,’ and Stevens’s refusal of practical inner change constitutes a cautionary text for depth-psychological reading. James Hillman recruits Stevens’s blue — the color of imagination par excellence — as phenomenological evidence within alchemical psychology, while Robert Romanyshyn deploys Stevens as a recurring philosophical touchstone in his hermeneutic of research as soul-making. The tension between Bloom’s celebratory daemonology and Bly’s shadow critique makes Stevens among the most productively contested figures in the library.