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Ungoing
Folder:
Satish Verma Incredible moon
tips the hallucinating tree.
Lake propels the waves to limbs
and strips to bank.
I wear my lightning
and enter into a process
outside body. The night
betrays and goes back to sun.
There is a frame of truth to be claimed
in a black sac, who slashed
his neck for the deity
of widening freedom.
Turn right, where the trembling
nation stands to pick up the fallen heroes.
I am going to write an epitaph
with my blood on the wind chimes.
