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Poems by Bill Knott

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Death

...   It will look as though I am flying into myself ...

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Weltende Variation #I

... God’s hand descends into a glove held steady by the police ...

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The Closet

... s death) Here not long enough after the hospital happened  ...

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The Golden Age

... art! A satyr drains an hourglass with one gulp ...

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Merry-No-Round

... they’d rise again, flared manes ...

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The Consolations of Sociobiology

... Meaner genes than mine and since you are merely ...

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Poem: Octopus floating . . .

... may your branches squirt ...