In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

TROMPE L'OEIL What you understand no longer matters: the rain beats its steady solo on the roof and you can hear the saints assenting, "Get that jazz!" while the old dropped drumsticks clatter on, unowned. Or else the sky is empty, blue on blue, ascending towards an unremitting cold—trompe 1'oeil, all this azure the atmosphere's trick. You think you can hold on to it, but erosion cups the garden into being. Look at the alley there, between the buildings: how the motes dance down, slip between gravity and air. See how the sliding days silt in with seeing, drown. 9 ...

Share