Welcome to Zimmer-zine
The e-zine for all those who are not dead yet!
IN MEMORIAM: KEN SARO WIWA |
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In the gutted morning you wake up standing with a faithful pencil near your crowded notebook knowing each bruise of a year's nakedness in the rainswept doorway dulled by hunger. Under a rope of tar skies night covers you you sense orange blossoms from the earth's forgotten warmth, your shoes are heavier made of human shadows you wish for justice thinking back by your student lamp with your scattered friends wanting miracles under a sovereign sky. |
B.Z. NIDITCH |