We Don’t Know We Don’t Know

Exotic facts, “Ancient Theories” (one poem’s title), memorable quotations and familial griefs collide and mingle throughout this striking first collection from the Wisconsin poet Lantz. Lantz takes his title, and many epigraphs, from Donald Rumsfeld (“there are also unknown unknowns—the ones we don’t know we don’t know”), but few of the poems pursue political causes. Instead, Lantz seems driven by quirky and quotable phrases, those he finds and those he creates—”As you know, the human head is the most/ commonly stolen body part”; “The whip/ makes a pleasing/ sound when it strikes.” Some pages suffer from gimmicks (“blank” lines, or words blacked out in a poem about secrets), and many others feel like collections of wonderful sentences, rather than like whole poems. Lantz’s best poems have traditional strengths and narrative surprises: “Thinking Makes It So” records a shockingly callous act, and “Of the Parrat and other that can speake” (another title from Pliny) reacts to the death of a parent, first with controlled humor, then with grief, and finally with sharpened irony—in a just world, anthologies would snap it up. (Mar.)