Satish Verma

June 5, 1935
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Turbulence

A night out with mosquitoes for a sharp
comment of urgency to end the war after a decapitated
unnamed flesh of words found six inches short
I can write only poems This very ordinary life appears
to be worthless

without vocabulary unsemantic between us I am
enslaved alive going beyond the stings in my
heart I try to find my voice burning inside a never
gone pain do you hear me I am very lonely in the
jungle of falls Am I descending

infarcts are spreading the paresis inability
to raise the finger fear of manuscript I am
never was there in cloudless desert the starless
night moonless sky it is very dark Out
of emptiness comes an explosion Is it a new creation

Satish Verma
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