as a coincident traveler
paperback writer in hand
striking on details at random
debris of the visible world

visited ever by spirits
waxing nostalgic just so
remembering all the train stations
where wandering thoughts are born

the poet has his metier
and pays himself in the coin
of the blockchain of dreams bespoken
and the swelling throat of the lark

inviting the ghastly genius
ashes haphazardly strewn
stands the awaiting boatman
nothing lost in translation

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