Gustaf Sobin, p.3



AUTUMNAL

...there where the last
rattling
vine—
leaves had let go, you'd sought, in the
ensuing vacuity, the

errant particles of some lost
re—

joinder: its dark sparks cradled in the
very drift of
its
syllables. write, but only to

read. read, but only to interpolate the
light's
il—

legibility. you,
who'd
combed shadow,
knelt, now, before the very

interstice. riddled clause, raucous
ash, only the absconded, finally,
sub—

stantiates.