Grief 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 silence.
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?