volume 37
The themes for all of volume 37 were excerpted
from poems by Kit and Arthur Winfield Knight.
from poems by Kit and Arthur Winfield Knight.
The Knights are authors, scholars and publishers of
The Unspeakable Visions of the Individual.
Together they edited The Beat Vision (1983).
A Marriage of Poets, a collection of their poetry,
was published in 1984.
Kit's chapbook, The Sound of Sadness,
was published by Ten Penny Players in 2016.
Their poetry has appeared in Waterways since the early 1980s;
and they remained contributors for over 3 decades.
The Unspeakable Visions of the Individual.
Together they edited The Beat Vision (1983).
A Marriage of Poets, a collection of their poetry,
was published in 1984.
Kit's chapbook, The Sound of Sadness,
was published by Ten Penny Players in 2016.
Their poetry has appeared in Waterways since the early 1980s;
and they remained contributors for over 3 decades.
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My mother told me they were my first shoes, and I examine them, wondering why I've kept them since they provide no clue as to who I was, bring back no memories and, certainly, serve no function, I realize baby shoes are stupid, but I put them back on the shelf. from Baby Shoes
by Arthur Winfield Knight |
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I remembered the way you sat on the edge of the bed reading to me after my first operation remembering your saying "We fit together so nicely," after we'd made love the first night; I didn't know if I'd ever see you again, and now I still didn't know. from Final Moments
by Arthur Winfield Knight |
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I net sixty dollars and a nickel-plated watch robbing two trains, and my career lasted 109 days; I know that don't make me Jesse James. from Al Jennings
by Arthur Winfield Knight |
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One book said the James boys turned to robbing banks because they were former guerrillas and when the Civil War ended they were bored. More likely, there was still so much upheaval, lawlessness, stealing, killing and violence going on that no one could settle down. And they were bored. Now, over one hundred years later, the bank has been renamed The Jesse James Bank Museum. from Sixty-One Thousand Dollars
by Kit Knight |
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I think about phoning my father to wish him a happy birthday, but he's often cranky, belligerent, when I talk to him long distance since his retirement. from The Agenday
by Arthur Winfield Knight |
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Ginny was four when the angel lifted her little sister out of the crib & held her aloft & steady while the burglar lifted the vacation money from the rented cabin by the lake. The parents were playing cards with other adults in another room. from Ginny' Angel
by Kit Knight |
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Paulita's mother asks my guard if he'll unlock the irons so Paulita and I can go into the bedroom for an "affectionate farewell," but he tells her "I ain't Santa Claus," and laughs when I stumble toward Paulita, my chains clanking. from Billy the Kid
by Arthur Winfield Knight |
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Paul dramatically ripped his shirt apart and handed it to me. I was speechless. I know, writers ae always supposed to know what to say. But no one had ever given me -- literally -- the shirt off his back. from Paul's Shirt
by Kit Knight |
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. . . Anna could even calm her husband's rages when he'd slam his fist on the table and roar, "I'll do the thinking around here!" Then Anna would just barely get a crushed-petal look and say -- privately, softly -- "He has a bum head." from Private Grief
by Kit Knight |
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Our greyhound awakens us, yelping, at 3 a.m. Kit says, "She's having a bad dream." I know. Nikkie lived in a crate, on concrete, for five years when she wasn't running. She would have been killed when her running days were over, bkut she came to us, shaking, covered with dandruff. It took her months to learn not to be afraid. from The Dark Night of the Soul
by Arthur Winfield Knight |
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There's a certain kind of beauty only the last rose can possess. from The Last Rose of Summer
by Arthur Winfield Knight |
