watching the detectives

For six months the statistics monitor on this website had been spewing up an interesting snippet of data.
An internet address kept recurring among those logging on here.
It read:
"Dark Satanic Mill, Yorkshire, England."
Dark Satanic Mill, Yorkshire, England was logging on to my site two, three, sometimes four times a day.
Dark Satanic Mill, Yorkshire, England, is the address of a corporation that bought out the Lootheramawn five years ago.
So they know.
And I know they know.
And they know I know they know.

what the travelling woman saw

what dreams may come

As I came out of the Clarendon Street church in Dublin a series of quick cries rang out through the damp dark of a winterish evening.
"James, James, James."
It was my travelling woman.
"What is it Mary?"
"Congratulations."
"For what Mary?"
"Your daughter."
"What do you mean?"
"Congratulations on the birth of your daughter."
"How would you know about that Mary?"
"I saw her."
Passers by glanced at us in the rain as I stood before the beggar woman, my handsome preraphaelite features quirkily quizzical, struggling to comprehend a rather pleasant rearrangement of the boundaries of the universe.