Bill Knott

(1940 - 2014 / Carson City, Michigan)

Cemetery - Poem by Bill Knott

Who whispers here is forgotten.

Saliva's emptiest fruit
adorns the stones,
words ripening your mouth
to a spoilation
of silence.

Who speaks here
reads a text that downloads
the screen of his fingernail,
through which nothing's visible
as glass is.

For the memorial
we must kneel
to pick each flower
from amongst its modifiers:
but to do that
one needs a hand bared
of all uses, of all trades:
as ours is not.

Comments about Cemetery by Bill Knott

  • Rookie - 14 Points Sue Ann Simar (7/9/2013 9:35:00 PM)

    I'm a little bit lost in the cemetary, but the last stanza has me lingering as I read it again and again. (Report) Reply

    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
Read all 1 comments »

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Read poems about / on: flower, silence

Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003

[Hata Bildir]