256. Bill Knott } is a terrible poet.

On the back of Nights of Naomi (Barn Dream, 1971), a quote—attributed to “Bill Knott (1940 – 1966)” —declares: “I consider ‘Nights’ my first and only book. The other books (including ‘Auto-necrophilia’) with my name on them are, like the patent office, full of garbage.”

That would include The Naomi Poems, reprinted against Bill’s wishes, by Janaka Stucky’s Black Ocean.

To celebrate Janaka’s flagrant disregard for Bill’s self-loathing, he’s invited Darcie Dennigan, John Cotter, Elisa Gabbert, me, & himself to read poems from The Naomi Poems at Riff Raff this Thursday.

My copy of Nights of Naomi belonged to Paul Hannigan, who taught (briefly) w/ Bill at Emerson College. Paul’s marginalia identifies sources & typos.

Some of us knew Bill. He was my undergraduate advisor & I frequently ran into him at bookstores in Cambridge & Somerville. We’ve been invited by Janaka to share anecdotes. My favorite anecdote about Bill is so offensive, I’ll keep it to myself.