Devoted Nightmare

"Like the pressure of twin fingers / Upon my cheek, my throat, my hand, / I feel two unseen eyes behold me / And with that unseen look, command."


Enveloped in a Garden

A couple of days ago, on a particularly moody spring afternoon, I was reading William Child Green's novel The Abbot of Montserrat in this secluded chapel garden -- doubly enveloped in both the unfolding of his tale and the white, newly-blooming flowers that surrounded me.