Poems by Bill Knott
Death
... It will look as though I am flying into myself ...
Weltende Variation #I
... God’s hand descends into a glove held steady by the police ...
The Closet
... s death) Here not long enough after the hospital happened ...
The Golden Age
... art! A satyr drains an hourglass with one gulp ...
Merry-No-Round
... they’d rise again, flared manes ...
The Consolations of Sociobiology
... Meaner genes than mine and since you are merely ...
Poem: Octopus floating . . .
... may your branches squirt ...
