Bill Knott Sleep Poems
- 1. 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.
... - 2. (end) Of Summer (1966)
I'm tired of murdering children.
Once, long ago today, they wanted to live;
now I feel Vietnam the place
where rigor mortis is beginning to set-in upon me.
... - 3. Sleep
We brush the other, invisible moon.
Its caves come out and carry us inside.
...
