satish verma has not received any gifts yet
The clouds hang on the strings.
I cannot dry my eyes.
Picking up the pine cones, on grass―
one by one, as the years went by.
How did I lose my home again?
Were there not footprints in snow?
The caladiums, you planted in
summer, had the crimsoned spots.
Like the kirmizi sun
dipping in lake one…
Cessation had no direct threats.
You had stopped thinking.
A shadowy future starts hating
you and your financial motives.
The September light falls on leaves
ready to go, yellow-brown-red.
You are still warm, still receptive
of the hollyhocks to welcome you.
A guiltless flight with singing birds―
An alien sitting in
Mona Lisa? Do you believe in the
pshyche of a beekeeper?
A vision. The future tense
retrieves the past glory of tenseless era.
The mimicry will do its own job.
A freak incident. Earth was
moving. Corned bodies riding on lead.
You must fill up the…
on your lips,
The pink, female
moonlets, trying to
stitch a womb.
I start a countdown
a death paramour.
My severed hand
holds a yellow rose.
half skull of…