Out of the Blank

The exemplary 12th collection from Equi (The Intangibles) is full of virtuosic wit as the poet takes aim at America’s capitalist lust, oppression of human rights, and reliance on technology, as well as the distraction, isolation, ambivalence, and hunger for instant gratification these produce. She imagines that “hell is when you have to keep going/ from screen to frozen screen,” divulges that “the word ‘chicken’/ becomes a mantra.// Burgers appear/ like bloody daggers in Macbeth,” and suggests that society should welcome aging and “indulge in/ subversive acts of dawdling,//... cultivate the corpse flower,/ listen to it like a radio in a small room// quietly playing its hypnotic/ melodic overture of decomposition.” Staccato enjambment, droll puns, rollicking portmanteaus, and zingy alliteration scintillate throughout. With heady sensory language and wordplay, she sobers the reader with somber apparitions: “Each/ carries/ their/ parcels/ of/ sadness// through the/ twilight/ village// under/ the/ illusion/ they’re/ alone.” These endlessly quotable, epigrammatic poems articulate the human experience with the ethereality of a harp and the coy trill of a cymbal. Equi’s linguistic dexterity and innovation are nonpareil. (Feb.)