the choice of map was not easy. the elevation lines
and clearing of the parks. what a mixed forest that was.

trails undermined what called itself coast, and evenings
was the whole region illuminated in such a fabulous
metallic light, its ionic use:
correctly locate the eurotunnel.
far beneath the consciousness threshold
even the action potentials remain foreign to space.

when the signs begin to blur, the station of arrival
can only be pronounced with difficulty. mickey

or something. that meant not in my backyard
but the buildings weren't marked,
the freight trains breathe sleeping,
this still awaits dream's discovery,
transmit, transit, transit.

Translation: Brian Currid