Pouring

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Urn was carring the snow 
unmelted 
like the soul of night. 
It was a very strange winter 
like araucaria puzzle. 

Who was dragging the evergreens 
over the chaste cliff? 
All the incogerent roots have broken 
the placenta for new gods. 
Millionaires? 

The marriage of basil at dusk 
with a paperweight, unleaving the road. 
I was hearing the footsteps of dawn, 
though sky was not listening to knocks.

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