Marduk

I will not wait for a firefly's pulse,

like the streets of this map

in which things are packed and scattered in comets,

neither will I look for a sign of repudiation among the tracks

for every image of the pat is tricky.

.

I will not talk,

I won't say anything,

and my silence will be a protest,

it will wash itself black up to the celestial page,

it will get your ankles-whirlpool wet

it will say about frontiers:

ship's traces

in cartographic plan.