Paul Zimmer Poems

I have a wide, friendly face
Like theirs, yet I can't hang
My nose like a fractured arm
...

In southern France live two old horses,
High in the foothills, not even French,
But English, retired steeplechasers
...

I want to become a great night bird
Called The Zimmer, grow intricate gears
And tendons, brace my wings on updrafts,
...

Amongst dogs are listeners and singers.
My big dog sang with me so purely,
puckering her ruffled lips into an O,
...

Once a week
The burnt girl came peddling to our house,
Touching her sweet rolls with raisin fingers,
...