Selected Poems of Arlen Riley Wilson


2 April 1999

This magic joint
That half a star's age
And a million writhing errors
Finally and perfectly designed for me
To make a hand,
To take, put, bend around,
And bend around again,
And at last to make be.



An Easter Song
Poem Beginning With a Line from Horace
To the Tune of Derry Air
On almost deciding that
it's too bad prefrontal lobotomies
are out of style especially for mothers
Hymn to the Democratic Party
Announcement 1969
For a Ladies's Magazine

Holistic Remedy
Our Lady of Outer Space
Is The Body of My Enemy my Enemy?
Save Your Breath
To the Persian Gulf: Thanks
Old Woman on the Beach
Quiet Lady

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