Satish Verma Writing

Yes it is descriptive only, the unbearable pain of denudation,

There was obsession, to wash your hands again and again.

A single line, undefined, hangs

In being and unbeing I come to you today―

The tremors. One day I would know. The trees are walking.

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The night poem crucial

Though inaudible, I will hear you― clear and distinct,

Everything was in place, and I started to find―

Eclectically, do not say anything; put a bullet in your head

Aquilla. Would you carry the burden

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