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