Billy Collins is the Jerry Seinfeld of poetry. He's hilariously funny, as he proves in an April 2005 reading recorded for Billy Collins Live (Random House Audio, $19.95), with an introduction by Bill Murray. By careful observation, Collins spins comic gold from the dross of quotidian suburban life. His voice, a Newhartish deadpan that is measured but never fussy, wrings laughs any stand-up would envy. Consider ''The Revenant,'' perhaps the least sentimental poem ever written about a pet dog. The canine in question, now in heaven, addresses his master with a catalog of complaint: ''I hated the car, the rubber toys,/ disliked your friends and, worse, your relatives/The jingling of my tags drove me mad/You always scratched me in the wrong place.''