The Book.

Let me just start out by saying props to Miller Williams for writing such a neat poem! It totally shocked me at how vivid the imagery was (not to mention kind of grossed me out, haha)

Anyways, this poem starts out by this friend, we'll say, who is listening to a story of a boy who found a book with blank pages in an old bunker. The boy starts writing in it as if it were his sketchbook and diary. One day, he shows the book to an old bookeeper who, completely in shock, tells the boy that the book is made out of human skin. It never tells us how the boy reacted to such news, but I assume it went something like this:

"-Gasp- it's made out of human skin! Ahh jkaf;dl!!"
"Well....I've been writing in it for a few years...It did feel a litte uhh, 'fleshy'. . . And I guess I always did feel a little sketch while writing in it...So uhhm..yeah."

And then the man probably looked at him, and there were no doubt some awkward glances exchanged. Typical.

But! On a more serious note, I think the way Williams presents this poem is the brilliant part: he doesn't tip-toe around the turning point of the poem -- a book bound in human skin. He doesn't foreshadow the turning point, so the reader doesn't dwell on the anticipation of figuring out the punchline before it is even given. Also, Williams' diction throughout the poem is kept very simple -- almost as if wanting to just keep the focus of the book and not distract the reader with crazy, vivid words. This poem is a sestet with no rhyme scheme. It's told almost like a story. The end shows repetition with, "I stared..." to provide emphasis on the last stanza, which is a second turning point in the poem.

My interpretation of this poem is that obviously, this book isn't made out of human skin but out of memories. Memories so vivid that they take the form of something. Perhaps the "human flesh" was that of the boy. And when the friend asks himself who the flesh is made out of, a child or a woman or a man, it's sort of all of them -- all the people who interacted with the boy and made those memories.

I stared and a horror gre, which was, which is,
how beautiful it was until I knew.

The memories were beautiful. The illustrations...flawless.
But when he found out what it was, the illusion was ruined.
Maybe playing the 'ignorance is bliss' card..?