Base Camp. Horizontal sleet. Two small boys
have raised the steel flag of the 20 terminus:
me and Ross Mudie are going up the Hilltown
for the first time ever on our own.
Da starns are da map I unrowl
There is no frigate like a book
/ To take us lands away,
/ Nor any coursers like a page
We round the Brunel coast, in a train
/ crowded with bags and elbows. Tunnels gape
/ through mountains. Someone coughs. Now at sea:
/ (for Mateo)
/ I remember your Moses basket before you were born.
/ I’d stare at the fleecy white sheet for days, weeks,