Gustaf Sobin, p.1
A BLUE-OBLITERATIVE
balustrades, and—just beyond—a blue—
obliterative, taut to the haul of its
chopped currents. 'screen,'
they'd
called it, those
scriptless wastes, there
where the parched lips, irremediable, had
gone un—
lettered. whose token glows, you'd
ask? what word with—
stands the
sheer acidity of such
an assimilation? you, your knuckles coiled
a—
bout some illusory guardrail, utter the
silence that, alone,
still
echoes.
balustrades, and—just beyond—a blue—
obliterative, taut to the haul of its
chopped currents. 'screen,'
they'd
called it, those
scriptless wastes, there
where the parched lips, irremediable, had
gone un—
lettered. whose token glows, you'd
ask? what word with—
stands the
sheer acidity of such
an assimilation? you, your knuckles coiled
a—
bout some illusory guardrail, utter the
silence that, alone,
still
echoes.