A CLEAN MURDER , A CLEAN MURDER , A CLEAN MURDER , A CLEAN MURDER , A CLEAN MURDER

A CLEAN MURDER , A CLEAN MURDER , A CLEAN MURDER

, A CLEAN MURDER , A CLEAN MURDER

Standing on a beam,

shrine:

holding a black dawn,

my phoenix roving on dark river.

The bell still clangs;

I hear the footsteps.

A weird thought

spreads out on peripherals,

makes holes,

the undone communiqu

of a war

between knuckles;

the blind eyes

lift the fallen globe

of light.

I move from tree to tree.

Who was left unburned?

The sky was overcast.

Satish Verma

---------------------------

A CLEAN MURDER

Standing on a beam,

shrine:

holding a black dawn,

my phoenix roving on dark river.

The bell still clangs;

I hear the footsteps.

A weird thought

spreads out on peripherals,

makes holes,

the undone communiqu

of a war

between knuckles;

the blind eyes

lift the fallen globe

of light.

I move from tree to tree.

Who was left unburned?

The sky was overcast.

Satish Verma

---------------------------

A CLEAN MURDER

Standing on a beam,

shrine:

holding a black dawn,

my phoenix roving on dark river.

The bell still clangs;

I hear the footsteps.

A weird thought

spreads out on peripherals,

makes holes,

the undone communiqu

of a war

between knuckles;

the blind eyes

lift the fallen globe

of light.

I move from tree to tree.

Who was left unburned?

The sky was overcast.

Satish Verma

---------------------------

A CLEAN MURDER

Standing on a beam,

shrine:

holding a black dawn,

my phoenix roving on dark river.

The bell still clangs;

I hear the footsteps.

A weird thought

spreads out on peripherals,

makes holes,

the undone communiqu

of a war

between knuckles;

the blind eyes

lift the fallen globe

of light.

I move from tree to tree.

Who was left unburned?

The sky was overcast.

Satish Verma

---------------------------

A CLEAN MURDER

Standing on a beam,

shrine:

holding a black dawn,

my phoenix roving on dark river.

The bell still clangs;

I hear the footsteps.

A weird thought

spreads out on peripherals,

makes holes,

the undone communiqu

of a war

between knuckles;

the blind eyes

lift the fallen globe

of light.

I move from tree to tree.

Who was left unburned?

The sky was overcast.

Satish Verma

---------------------------

A CLEAN MURDER

Standing on a beam,

shrine:

holding a black dawn,

my phoenix roving on dark river.

The bell still clangs;

I hear the footsteps.

A weird thought

spreads out on peripherals,

makes holes,

the undone communiqu

of a war

between knuckles;

the blind eyes

lift the fallen globe

of light.

I move from tree to tree.

Who was left unburned?

The sky was overcast.

Satish Verma

---------------------------

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