my translation of a very strange poem written by Paul sometime in May

[o_m]

Hello segnora
everyone throws us
like coins wishing
to know if we land
heads or tails up
to know
where the wind is blowing
how much is a pound
of one poet's meat,
one kilo of oranges, four
rolls of wrapping dust;
on the ghost tracing-paper
they're sketching us a new
line of the morning, yesterday and
today. They are waiting for us to
land heads
or tails up