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Catching Butterflies
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Satish Verma Gathering the mist from
your eyes, if a kiss would speak.
You belong to the world of curves.
Sun was polygyny. Moons
will meet in winter solstice, unmoving
night. Snakecharmer remains calm.
My house has no one
except me. Dots and dashes create
a hermit. Nothing was left to celebrate.
When a snake charmer loses
When a snake charmer loses his calm that is when all of the proverbial hell breaks loose.
here is poetry that doesn't always conform
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