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Four Poems by B. Z. Niditch February 16, 2012

Posted by vscorpiozine in Veteran Poets.
Tags: , ,

Crazed wild wordsmith
in an inch of space
from the straight jacket
the groupie stole for you
at the Salvation Army store
in your stupor horror
of this locust L.A. day
in the mirror’s swig
of a binge’s wellspring
after a moonstruck trek
along peppered rail yards
in phosphorescent darkness
tearing up your daylight flesh
presenting a Hamlet’s death
of words,words,words
when all the time
language poems whisper
to you after your tar bar fight
half crippled from panic
you make it
in a fiery cold stovepipe flat
cherry picking your lovers
in a narcissistic bathtub
full of vodka
someone pretty and good
from the badlands
is always there
to patch up
your bloody bandages
left in the hallway
panting from
your exhausted pain
in fatigues old as poetry.


The matchless sun
consumes dust
at the first shot
opening up language

a century reaches out
to the task of Ezra
pounding out
life & death sentences

a short path
for an odyssey
the ancients

until every conspiracy
of sages, savages and fools
betrays your words
for song.


At my reading
every day
language breathes
down my nature

on the podium
losing myself
in stolen words
as kisses

making out
in a roll
of my tongue
capturing solitude

with a scrappy
in a blunted alembic
of a life sentence

soon to be
reflected on
graffiti walls
and then translated.


That ex-landlord
was wiping
his moist white mustache
in a low pitched voice
smelling of beer
from his stolen school van
hands out
laced brownies
between his dirty palms
when we were ten,
always threatening
the poor neighbors
with “Do not go there”
once rumored to be
a religion editor,
crime reporter,
comic strip writer
in a defunct
yellow tabloid,
an extra in x rated
stag films,
a spy for the enemy
whoever it was
at the time,
once saying,
“Only men could appreciate
his movies,
Male War Bride
or Moby Dick,”
often sitting shoeless
exposing his Navy wounds
and Popeye sailor tattoos,
showing off
those knife collections,
the alley’s feral cat
his newspaper
and toe clippings
he saved
for anyone coming by.


B.Z. NIDITCH is a poet, playwright, fiction writer and teacher.

His work is widely published in journals and magazines throughout the world, including: Columbia: A Magazine of Poetry and ArtThe Literary Review;  Denver Quarterly;  Hawaii Review; LeGuepard (France); Kadmos (France);   Prism International;  Jejune (Czech Republic); Leopold Bloom (Budapest);  Antioch Review; and Prairie Schooner, among others.

He lives in Brookline, Massachusetts.



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