Guest Poet Ian Randall Wilson


It takes a lot of magic to keep pianos in tune.  Those five stones outside are
part rite.  And a screwdriver.  After the wake, all the jewelry ascended.
From the attic, we shot deer and the birds stopped coming for food.  I saw a
place by the water rumored to be the end of the world.  Is the man of the
house at home?  I know a man who can kill from forty paces with a toothpick.
And in this corner, the amazing fork.  At my school flat-world theorists
abound.  We marched to hear our boots scrape.  Don't hurt me.  When the lights
went out she called for her dead mother.  Satisfied with your long distance
service?  I've stocked up on spare fuses because a gun unloaded is still a
gun.  What about spoons?  Question for the panel Do chestnuts rattle after
they die?  Another mind-body problem.  Recent studies prove the soul weighs
half a pound.  Perhaps a grommet, dried nuts, apothecary science.  One legend
has it that a dead man's dog never leaves his grave.  Please hold during the

December, 1998

Ian Randall Wilson's Questions:

What kind of sense do these juxtapositions make, if at all?
How do you respond to what appears to be a lack of narrative in this piece?
Which lines are the most interesting and why?

Correspond with Ian Randall Wilson at
with your ideas about this poem.

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