Satish Verma

June 5, 1935
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Unreadable

It was a fake time,
moon will not rise.

Words were afloat
on junk dna.

A stonefaced pseudonym
dies point-blank.

The surprise, the speed
was not on our radar.

The ravenous siblings
now asleep on walls.

Naive or disingenuous.
A sitting Buddha will decide.
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