to the poets I love
We are a minefield of clarity,
and whoever crosses the barbed wire comes back to life.
But who’s interested in crawling through undergrowth?
Who dares sail a tempest?
Who wants to come face to face with purity?
0That’s why we’re fenced off in this no-man’s-land,
under permanent crossfire.
from The Violent Foam
— tr. George Evans, Curbstone Press