The Intangibles

By Elaine Equi

Equi is, in Guernica's words, "not a poet’s poet and not a people’s poet, and yet she is both." That combination of technical prowess and engagement with accessibility makes her very much like Ron Padgett—someone whose work can be appreciated by all.

The present—as it is expressed it through ads, social media, consumer culture, food, pills, and entertainment—is woven with the small moments of the everyday here, effortlessly tying the post-modern with the personal.

Equi’s poetry examines complex ideas with a light touch, playfulness, and grace, and is both casual and incisive at once. Her work is funny and subtle and confident—her humor is a real and charming entry point.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Coffee House Press
• Release date: Nov 12, 2019
• ISBN: 9781566895729

Book preview

The Secret of Time Meets a Stranger

You look familiar.

Were you once my mother?

My child that slept through the Ice Age?

That song you were whistling —

where did you learn it?

Time passes, but the past will not stay behind,

and the future keeps rushing back

in search of a button it lost in the mist.

Who can say if it is better to wind up a clock

than to wind up a mammal?

In Newton’s day, time was seen as an arrow.

The arrow turned into a river.

The river stopped at a diner.

I’m there now, drinking a cup of coffee, writing a poem

called The Secret of Time Meets a Stranger.

Somehow, I always knew you would come.

The God Molecule

Scientists have discovered

is like a thickening agent

added to electrical soup.

From it came all manner

of matter in infinite sizes,

shapes, and colors. In malls

across the multiverse

our planet is known to have

the best shopping around.

God appears in myriad forms,

but does s/he really care

what story we buy into?

Poised between chaos and

intelligent design, it turns

out the molecule could

support either theory.

God’s own benevolent

way of saying whatever.

The Intangibles

Step right up and speak into the void.

Prove you’re not a robot.

Answer the question:

What color is the silver basket?

Enter the sequence of numbers

written in the sky.

Look past the dazzling confounds.

Move to the high percolations

at the edge of

Why?

I write to impersonate words and give them a more human quality.

I write so I can taste test a word for myself.

I write to discover what can only be said in the moment —

because it is — no matter how stupid or obvious that sounds.

I write because it’s an inexpensive habit — except in terms of time.

I write because I can’t sing.

I write to embellish facts.

I write to spite an old nun who punished me for telling the truth by

having me write I will not tell lies one hundred times.

I write because certain combinations of words really are magical.

I write to create a body of