The Grass is Black/The Air is Pink

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feel me/read me/follow me

‘Sleepwalker Poet’ by B.Z. Nidtich

time mingles
with your own voice
in the empty room
full of furtive secrets
two almond eyes
waken by sunlight
near the blueprints
of your own body

demanding any life signs
from the long silence
of unspeakable loss
to unlock an unsound night
here in an early chill
you discover dark flashing
from blankets of fever
in an somnambulist dream.

under street lamps
picking the leaves
you crush pebbles of dust
of a nocturnal October
half-glimpsed
in the young frosted morning
you sleep on, sleep on.

Posted with WordPress for BlackBerry.

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