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Subconscious and conscious
My guts strain toward the larynx,
Where my brain lends a hand
To pull their message out, adding
Some finesse to what otherwise
May pass as vomit. They're not
A lark's trilling, true, perhaps
Just a poem that can be heard
In seconds of silent kindness.
© Sanjib Basu
Where my brain lends a hand
To pull their message out, adding
Some finesse to what otherwise
May pass as vomit. They're not
A lark's trilling, true, perhaps
Just a poem that can be heard
In seconds of silent kindness.
© Sanjib Basu
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