To the west of the river lay the country in which I went Columbusing — the enchanted desert whose southern boundary was where the sky reached down and merged with the earth curve, and whose northern limit was the Harqua Hala range […]

Saint Stephen was the first martyr.

[…] we circumvolve our Eyes […]

But that night there were stampings, boots against the thick wall of darkness And when they were gone I heard the wailing of women, wives and mothers […]