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

39 Arrival Forms Field notes on Satan in Antarctica: When he walks past a turned-off TV, it glows blue. Like a penguin’s, his tongue is stiff, barbed. When stirred by more than usual lust, Satan shuffles and brays. Crinkled jazz eyes, red as grief. On the landing card at the airport under profession, he always writes in a small neat hand as in the astronomical sense, I am a singularity. ...

Share