Do you remember the portable hole from that Wile E. Coyote cartoon? I think he sent away for it. It was a flexible black disc that suddenly became negative space when placed on the ground, a trap for the Road Runner. But his plan to capture the bird failed. It was Wile E. himself that kept falling in.
Driving home the other night, I was struck by the moon, full and low over East Avenue. A Tom Waits lyric came to mind: “The moon's teeth marks are on the sky like a tarp thrown over all this.” What’s beyond the tarp? I took a picture but the detail washed out. It ended up looking like a negative version of Wile E.’s portable hole, a portal thrown up against the sky, something to fall into.