Bill Knott would probably be mad at me for writing a blog about him. I also believe that he would revel in the fact that someone is writing about him and leave in the comments section something like this, "You are a dumbass nobody writing about another dumbass nobody who is an exile in the po-biz. Write when you are somebody." Being somebody will probably never happen, so please excuse me for the following piece. As an undergraduate I asked my mentor, Alan Soldofsky, who I write like. I studied haiku and the short form for years and I felt at that time I pushed as far as I could. Bill Knott is who he said, and, from his memory, Alan quoted these two poems to me: Goodbye If you are still alive when you read this, close your eyes. I am under their lids, growing black. Death Going to sleep, I cross my hands on my chest They will place my hands like this. It will look as though I am flying into myself. These poems resonate because the images are so succinct, bu...
Formerly the RetailMFA, This is the Poetry Blog of Darrell Dela Cruz