Ken Zimmerman

Poetry

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

I can see you beating there on the screen in grainy black and white…

i’m working under shadows…

i made a river…

It will happen quietly. You won’t know it, at first…

I, too, love the colorful flowers…

I love what’s wild more than anything cultivated to an excess…

The lungs of bread are blackened with smoke and heavy machinery weeps…

Some things are too big to see…

oh you should see the sparkling light through wet trees…

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