More on: Jean Hollander

The purple plant of abstinence grows in the murky shade gnaws at the caterpillar with its thorny teeth and snarls at its mealy flesh noli me tangere as if to crawl along its spiny hands the index finger stained with negatives were death, the sour wash of corpses circling down the winding drain that rusty…

Hiking in Switzerland with a bad back and doctor’s orders not to fall, through meadows of bluebells and buttercups, daisies and tiny orchids of pale lavender, tiger-striped mossy rocks, forget-me-nots, even the thistles tender in their bristly buds. But danger lurks in beauty of the shining rock slippery with summer melt when here the trail…

The Eighth Day after Creation Then what a falling-off there was, unruly man, a violent God— when earth gave way, and rocks sprang up, volcanoes poured their fire down and mountains rose with jagged crags to form a world outside the plot. Though here today among the glaciered peaks pine stems still grow straight up…