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It Is Getting Dark
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Satish Verma Who had punished
the earth? Her head of moon
felled off at guillotine.
Let go. I am afraid
of myself. It is no time to
commensurate with love.
What was unsaid, will
speak eyes on their own. Give back
my basket of roses.
Moonheads guillotined, and
Moonheads guillotined, and unsaid words that become speaking eyes---your inventiveness and radical imagery never fails to deliver a verbal and very poetic impact.
Starward