“So there are rays. Strong ones, others /only splinters.” These lines from Albert Mobilio’s eerie, minor-key latest collection Touch Wood aptly describe the delirious effects a reader may experience in the passenger seat of this existential ride through a psychic terrain of “sand banks, stung with grass.”

“In reality, the sky isn’t far from or near the land,” Cesar Vallejo will write with typically laconic dream-logic before noting, as an afterthought: “In reality, death isn’t far from or close to life.”