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Many Namesakes
Boots in air
an elite brain hangs out
from the tall tears.
It does not search an exit.
Time moves out
with a murder in eyes.
Leading a spartan life
in a lair, in tune
with absolutely zilch.
A sexy mouth mimes
for a glittering tree.
Parakeets were coming in swarms.
Can you believe, he was
in a hit list
of a gliding moon?
poem
by
Satish Verma
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