Quaternity

<i>Quaternity</i> asks the reader to trust in words—the word itself and not what it supposedly signifies. For the word itself can be a musical note and can suffice (more than suffice!) that certain combinations sing. The dictionary bows to <b>Scott Glassman</b> and <b>Sheila Murphy's</b> seductive diction: "No curve to infinity can mimic bells."—<b>Eileen Tabios</b> <br /> These collaborative pages elaborate vocal colors and chord-changing arrangements of sensory elision: musics of meaning. <i>Quaternity</i> is "lubrication-lit," aglow with the sensual pleasure of its making. Glassman and Murphy court rapture "where frogleaps suture kismet vines."—<b>Tom Beckett</b> <br /> In <i>Quaternity</i>, Glassman and Murphy cease to make the usual "third thing" of collaboration—art and meaning immanent in shared composition—the end. Let the third be words and process, this material book, or tent camping, and start the box step waltz of four: author, author, writing, lunge.—<b>Catherine Daly</b>