Ken Zimmerman

Poetry

“the space between a sleepwalker’s outheld arms” Bill Knott

The Apprentice’s Last Day

The Apprentice's Last Day The candle is still burning; the flute’s note, unsure of itself, wavers in the door. I have watched and listened, and all that time crowds behind me—the day I burned a whole field with one match, the night I spent in a graveyard, standing on...

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