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More poems by Bill KnottBill Knott | Print this page.Print | View and Write CommentsComments | Books by Bill KnottBooks by Bill Knott


Bill Knott

The taller the monument, the more impatient our luggage. 
Look, look, a graveyard has fancy dirt. 
Historians agree: this is the pebble which beaned Goliath.
Every billboard is theoretically as beautiful as what lies unseen behind it. 

Mouth: the word's exit-wound.
It is impossible to run away face-to-face.
Shadow has closed the door out of you to you, but not to us.
The sign on the wall advises: Hide your gloves beneath your wings. 

Even sculptors occasionally lean against statues.
Migrations?! Fate?! Life swears up at ledgelife.
All the sad tantamounts gather. They want, they say, to errand our ways. 

Please aim all kicks at the ground.
Address all blows to the air.
We are to be barely mentioned if at all in the moon's memoirs. 

Added: 20 Feb 2002 | Last Read: 24 Mar 2018 3:39 PM | Viewed: 3993 times

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URL: http://plagiarist.com/poetry/2599/ | Viewed on 24 March 2018.
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