Theme: Life

A Dark House

The accretion of a perfect squall
when claws were out -

scavenging novelties. A lewd
paranoia slains a farewell

in a trench. The chamber has
vomited a mound of gold blinding a shell.

The combs did not straighten
the puff. The old man was very lonely.

I would stop hunting the stings
of a bare-chested moon.

I recuse myself from judging the paperboat
which wanted to cross the ocean.

04-Jan-2013

More By  :  Satish Verma

Views: 1388     Comments: 0


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