Wall and Neutrino, the Poet In New York

(fragment) English version by Liviu Martinescu 50. oddly the leaves seem to count us in their fall houses shaped as a shrill sound nobody lives in nobody often the poor hear the nought in objects blind people's hands do not signify in litheness of pure bars stroking one word that thought-lives us imitating the wistfulness of unborn gods we sink too soon in the sleep-iron landscape our fingers deafened by the cranial blade of computers surrounded by liquid helium solitude and pounded heart in the vacuum mouth of objects we can only be saved by the word the word that grinds its own shape with the intensity of a star breathing its own catastrophe the word through which the violet ribs of children can be seen sequential workers their complexion as dark as statistics the gauze bandages of goods hiding rotting canals we live in approximation our eyes shredded by speed nonplussed we fail no notice that our dogs return from hunting bearing sumerian tablets on their collars who are you coming out of the net of time to touch our civilization with a myrtle sprig ay sleep hauls cities on paltry claws their music a breeze from the future yet cybernetic bells snow down on blue deafness