jump to navigation

Recollection and Other Poems by B.Z. Niditch June 3, 2013

Posted by vscorpiozine in 1990s, Veteran Poets.
Tags: , , ,
St. Marks Place , early 1990s

St. Marks Place , early 1990s – Photo from evgrieve.com

During the month of June, we’re saluting the 1990s zine scene and poems about (or inspired by) musicians, celebrities & other famous folks. Today we’re showcasing 5 poems by B.Z. Niditch, a widely-published poet of the 1990s. His  recent work continues to be featured  in prestigious magazines and on literary websites worldwide.


With our 1990’s hands
reaching out
even rebellious adjectives
are explored
our voices float
on graffiti walls
there is still time
for us poets
to speak out
without props
for our nature, gender
even for trees
when even
the Pacific waves
are unprotected
from our environs
like any physiognomy
and identity
our life needs a green card
for any foreign body
in the exposure
of our animated shelters
from every betrayal
we surrender only
to a compass of language
at every stage
under the pillars
of a rainbow flag
or at an urban read
for we open door poets
scenting no caution
or fear
to live among others
in a free sisterhood,
or on a brother’s sync lips
with a solace of speech,
for all the world’s Beat
dig to survive the earth.


no regrets on Sunset strip
trucking outside
the boxing shadows
of exhausting nights
unwilling to form
an accidental lane
of body parts
in flashed red lights
at a petrified scene
from our seat belt,
glassy and ripped
a Beat Poet
only a passes
by  running invectives
in a thirst
for language
on the steering
wheel of tangled
voice mails
now imprisoned
to answer
words sleep
walking on gaseous
shadows questioning
any empty disillusionment.
of a unfiltered future
in driving us
the fourth hour
with  an elegy’s stick shift
toward intervention
of buried grief on my
long sleeves
on highways of picture
postcard verticals
between    nights and day
where an imaginary
third lane energetic
synergy of almost humans
operates to a percolating
aroma under stars
by a felled holiday week end

on route 66


Rounding these words
in a memory of solitude
we discover a universe
in our graffiti scratches
on a city’s unclenched walls
throbbing with a kid glove
of half speech
unfolding what answers
and renews
in our absences
those thousand voices
in a palette’s drawing
of an indifferent time
forfeiting every exile’s
green identity card
with our prose exhuming
in our alphabet appearances.


Everyone has a pulse
of a chimera’s echo
in a poet’s mirror
like a domino of words
of a Beat’s immunity
interrogates language
passes on unspoken justice
in a captive passport
from a rapture
for our enlightenment
here in the gay 90’s
once again a stupid war
on the pale horizon
but not discouraged
we have not forgotten
the quivers of peace
and love on our flower
children’s breath
here on the waterfront
sprawled on a blanket
balloons are released
the crowds takes hold
of this poet’s words
from San Francisco
to Boston.


After watching
the Almadovar film
with my movie buff buddy
and actor in my one act play
back in Boston
talented Pillar from the Valley
that April night, 1990
feeling unconfined, etherized
from the dark theater,
when Pillar calls me hip
and almost falls
on the sidewalk face
and injures her own hip
wearing red high heels
doing a Marilyn imitation
near the cable cars
in the hills
hoping the harbor lights
along the waterfront
will make us feel a year
younger or sober
hoping for any phone message
or a message on my back
glued to our friendship
as it starts to rain
and we murder
a Spanish cinnamon roll.

BZ Picture 12  B.Z. NIDITCH is a poet, playwright, fiction writer and  teacher. He lives in Brookline, Massachusetts.His work has been published in Denver Quarterly, Hawaii Review, Antioch Review, Prism International and Jejune (Czech  Republic),  among others.



No comments yet — be the first.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: