No Sign on the Island, by Blake Wallin
No Sign on the Island is flailing around mid ocean in a desperate search for a territory that no longer exists and wouldn't have a map anyway. No Sign is a friendly reminder that studying abroad messes with you irredeemably until you're left with no options but to create your own land and craft your own map, the borders of which are people and the limits of which are extenuating circumstances, just like there is No Sign.
From "Trojan Horse"
Something to take the edge off,
Something to render stupid all these forms,
Something all this tension knows,
Like a bridal party gone too far.
Like an errata collection at the end of the book
But which you constantly have to refer back to
In order to make sense of the little things,
Be my single vision so that I can finally see
The airtight lockdown space around me,
And make these “supplies” supplicants
In nature’s grab-bag atrocities,
One by one letting you know
That your gig is up
And your goose’s been cooked.