At a reading at the Guggenheim Museum, Bill Knott took his poems out of a paper bag one at a time, reading a few lines then stopping, telling the audience “this poem is complete shit” before choosing another. Russell Edson preferred prose poems, their clumsiness, their lack of ambition: “he thought of poetry as a cast-iron airplane that sporadically flies, chiefly because its pilot doesn’t seem to care if it does or does not.” Knott and Edson died this spring; Charles Simic, who knew both poets, pays tribute to their work here.
Posted on: Wed, 28 May 2014 22:16:44 +0000
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