the tree is getting away from the shelter of the
tree. to get at the laws of the game one
suffer a lot.everything that heavenly- getting
purified. the vermilion fur of a sheep. the volatile
no xerox machine any where. the flesh in which we are
the air causes something to fall off. a star remains
intact in spite of rebounding lights. someone using
every amazement just like a machine is used. just like. ..
a cock gets alarmed - just the same. the intense smell
of the attar makes us understand the container is broken.
sunlight coming through the window. just like a window
made of trees - this called practice.
every one young - in the morning sunlight today.
many times provable that we do not know a tree...
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Comments about this poem (Practice by anupam mukhopadhyay )
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- The Vulture, Curtlan Popo
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- Why I'm You, Curtlan Popo
- Your Eyes, C J Browning
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