Book thief vents rage on laureate's poetry with shotgun

Two-time U.S. Poet Laureate Billy Collins has been blasted by critics before but never this literally.

Miegan and Chan Gordon, the veteran booksellers of rare and used books at The Captain's Bookshelf, have the proof that poetry, long mourned as dead or dying in American culture, can still rouse angry, even bizarre responses.

About a month ago, Miegan Gordon opened up the store on Page Avenue, turning on the lights, but finding an overflow shelf of poetry books had been tampered with.

She found a signed first edition of Collins' 2003 collection "Nine Horse."

The book had been blasted with a .410 shotgun at close range that sent more than 20 pellets through the pages and out the back. On the rear inside cover, Collins' author photograph had been meticulously defaced in ink with a devil's beard and mustache and the eyes blacked out.

Going back through their records, Chan Gordon said the book had probably been on the shelves for two years, but had never sold. The book was valued at $50.

There were no signs of a break-in.

What was most worrisome to the Gordons was that the unknown poetry assailant had returned the blasted book back to the same shelf where it had been. They reported the incident to city police.

One of the nation's most popular and best-selling poets, Collins writes accessible poetry that draws in many readers, but irritates some critics.

"Part of his popularity is scorned by other less successful poets," Chan Gordon explained.

He suspects the culprit is not just an irate reader, but a disgruntled poet who may have been turned down in one of the many contests that Collins has judged.

The Gordons emailed Collins Thursday with news of the damaged book. "If Mr. Collins wants it, I'll be glad to give it to him," Gordon said.

Otherwise, the book now may be worth even more with all the damage. "It's certainly a one of a kind, highly-unusual copy of a book in contemporary American poetry," Gordon said.

Collins himself has written about readers' often tortured response to all poetry, not just his own.

In "Introduction to Poetry," he writes:

All they want to do

is tie the poem to a chair with rope

and torture a confession out of it.

They begin beating it with a hose

to find out what it really means.