Minakhi Misra

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Forgotten Poet

His freshly-ground Robusta’s still
Adept at open-sesaming
Forever tangling neural nets
Inside his muse’s fishing hole
He daily melts with caffeine drips
Escaping down the leaky mug
He’s stolen from Alzheimer’s desk.

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←Someone’s ceiling, someone’s floor
Before I cross that final bridge…→

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