Dirty Time Poem by Satish Verma
Dirty Time
Depth of a bruised sea
rising from the surface
overwhelms the dumb shore
shining
for impossible tomorrow
golden sand, the locked door.
History repeats amnesia
for a depressed meniscus
shifts the nameplate.
Here was laid the image of
priestlees god of dusty face
small dreams.
The book remains incomplete
who wrote the contents
for blank pages?
Saturday, February 20, 2010
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4/24/2024 7:45:42 AM # 1.0.0.1119
