Gustaf Sobin
Haako
words that wouldn’t rebound in dull
percussions,
but being the air’s potential and reaching
into the air’s uttermost muscles, as
breath would burst, and
vibrant
shower our limbs in the light of our spreading echo.
*
our words.
our echo.
but with the weight, the irridescence of other voices.
(1973)
Page(s) 53
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