Bill Knott's Poetry Workshop (I. thru V.)

Bill Knott’s Poetry Workshop I.

He told him
“That’s not
what poets
write about”
while insisting he
doesn’t want to argue
“Listen”
he says
“Listen”

He tells her
you can only
be vague when
you overcome
obscurity
“Listen”
he says
“Listen”

I listen in
pale tones,
dread my turn
in the guillotine
and I hope I
listen well enough



Bill Knott’s Poetry Workshop II.

“What we have in your poem”
he says, twisting his fictional mustache
“is one big cliché
with poorly
placed line breaks”

Recommended solution
to said problem:
Insert head in noose
Kick box away
Hang until death shows up

I look around
for some different advice,
wonder how to become a slave
to Knottsville Poetry Writing, wonder
what the speaker’s social security
number has to do with anything,
wonder why I must disguise fiction
as poetry, wonder if I can find
a map of this Poetryland he keeps
talking about

I ask Chad #2 what the difference
is between poetry and fiction
He tells me line
breaks and phrases
are key and

I stare at him and pray
that this vulnerable piece of paper
is metaphor-free
because I know the noose
will just give me rope burn


Writing Poetry for BK
(Bill Knotts Poetry Workshop III)

I scream into my pillow,
toss my pen and paper
to the floor
and struggle to lift
blocks of concrete
thought,try to banish metaphors
from my Poetryland mind

What about metaphors attracts me?
unreality.
What about unreality makes me create?
abstraction.

It’s easier to talk
about sunlight as matter
than to say
He and I are through
I pull my face
from the pillow and think
about line breaks
and life breaks
and no breaks

and concrete images
that don’t compare
anything



Bill Knott’s Poetry Workshop IV.

I’m a poetic
Eliza Doolittle,
kept under syllabic
lock and key.
Shut the door
on definition!
I hear.
Open your eyes
to modern verse.
I cringe and fold
my hands in criss-
crossed bundles
in my lap
and don’t know
how to dance
for my Henry Higgins
with all these marbles
in my metaphoric mouth.




Bill Knott’s Poetry Workshop V.

I got an A
from Bill Knott, Poet Biscuit
Extraordinaire, self-proclaimed
scourge of the syllabic seas
and I laugh because I am
delighted to have survived
my turn on the plank
and readjusted my
sea legs to stand upright
on the higher ground