Auto-Necrophilia by Bill Knott (1940-1966) (1971)

The second book by American poet Bill Knott (1940-2014).

Poetry Review:  Artists as diverse as Mary Karr, Charles Simic, and Richard Hell have cited Bill Knott as an influence. In his second book, Auto-Necrophilia, Knott very much continues the feel of The Naomi Poems (published in 1968), warranting its sub-title: "The ____ Poems. Book 2." The chapbook, Aurealism: A Study (1970), was published between these two books. In that one and this, Bill Knott assumed his own name (no longer using the pseudonym Saint Geraud, as he did with The Naomi Poems), although he still appends the fictional life dates "(1940-1966)" to his name. One of the poems in Auto-Necrophilia addresses the pseudonym issue:

   I don't use a pen-name anymore
   I don't use a pen anymore
   I don't write anymore
   I just sit looking at the wastebasket
   With this alert intelligent look on my face

Vietnam is less an obvious theme here (tho the war is still a subtext to many of the pieces):

   if you understand something
           explain it to me
   but real slow
   and use one-syllable corpses

There aren't quite as many of the short, incisive poems in Auto-Necrophilia, but they still have an effect:

   I am the only one who can say
   "I have never been in anyone's dreams"
   Your nakedness: the sound when I break an apple in half

and,

   The wind blew a piece of paper to my feet.
   I picked it up.
   It was not a petition for my death.

Generally the poems are longer, and there is a noticeable increase in the surrealism (or is it Aurealism?) in the pieces:

   The spinal-fusion taps at the window of blank pennies.

and,

   Lyricism is the elaboration of a moment's cowardice
   For example the rows of shoes surrounding an empty lighthouse

Usually I'm not a fan of surrealism just to appear weird and randomly juxtapose incongruous images, but Bill Knott's surrealism works on two levels. First, I believe there's a method to his madness, there is a meaningful underlying message, it's not aimless even if I don't always get it. Second, the power of his images, even when opaque, are so good that I can just read his lines for the pleasure of the ride:

   You slash your throat with a butterfly

and,

   Even your shoulders are petty crimes

Knott's anger and antagonistic nature are well on display in Auto-Necrophilia, as the kind of person who's only happy when he's unhappy, rarely allowing the status quo to linger, overturning the apple cart whenever things seem to be going too well. As more evidence of Knott's contrary nature, the Table of Contents does not address the actual poem titles, most of which are simply "Poem," but are the titles of B-movie horror films. The poems are also full of his usual puns and wordplay and an insistence on provocative tastelessness (such as the book's title).

I'm admittedly a Bill Knott fan, if you can find his books, you might be too. [4.5 Stars]