Elinor Nauen: Pick of the Week [ed. Terence Winch]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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The History of Western Philosophy

 

Bertrand Russell had just about convinced me

there’s more to life than sex

I’d like to go to bed

with him but he’s dead      even windowless

monads are sexy     they remind me of gonads

careening around & bumping

each other     hitting on each other

 

I know more philosophy than that

 

you’re not supposed to mix

your muse with your mistress or they’ll both

fuck you     over     the real question

is

is there anything we can think of

which

by the mere fact that we can think of it

is shown to exist outside

our thought   

 

the answer is sex

therefore god exists

 

sex is a revelation

a reason

empirical

possible     credible     self-consistent

the best of all possible worlds

sex precedes existence

precedes essence

I fuck      therefore

I attract every body with a force

directly proportional to the product

of their masses

 

Buridan’s ass

unable to choose between 2 equidistant bundles of hay

died of hunger

call me up sometime     I’ll make you lunch

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Elinor Nauen is a poet and prose writer who writes frequently about baseball, cars and driving, and place, and maintains a six-day-a-week blog (at ElinorNauen.com). Her books include Now That I Know Where I’m Going, American Guys, So Late into the Night (a book-length poem in ottava rima), My Marriage A to Z: A big- city romance, Cars and Other Poems, and, as editor, Ladies, Start Your Engines: Women writers on Cars & the Road and Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend: Women Writers on Baseball. She hails from South Dakota, lives in Manhattan’s East Village with her husband (Johnny Stanton) and a cat (Lefty), and studies Norwegian and strict traditional Japanese karate. She hosted (with Martha King) the Prose Pros series from 2007-2019.

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Comments

[Clarinda harriss]

If I could have spur of the moment crazed unprotected sex with a poem I’d pick this one to take home!

[Joan Retallack]

This is delightful, starting with iconic hand to chin, big-horned philosophical gaze. Buridan’s Ass had the same problem as Aristotle’s equally hungry and thirsty man—placed between food and drink, he starved in a fatal equilibrium of choices. Moral: always carry a tossable coin in your pocket. (Although, an Ass doesn't have a pocket.) Thanks for privileging fun in profundity in poetry!

[lally]

Elinor is and has always been the great underheralded treasure of the poetry world, and the funniest, sexiest, and smartest underheralded treasure too

[Dr. Earle Hitchner]

I haven't encountered the phrase "Buridan's ass" since the required course in LOGIC I took as a college freshman half a century ago. I've been relying on that course's rigor ever since in order to detect and deflect the donkey dung flung mostly by politicians. Elinor's invocation of Buridan made me laugh. Her entire poem is a delicious, lubricious delight putting an enduring smile on my face. It's the kind of verse you can always burro into further with an assured reward. Wonderful!

[Terence Winch]

Thanks, Earle, for the comment. I personally think Buridan & Balaam should join forces.
But maybe that would be too asinine or illogical.

[Maureen Owen]

A great mind teaser and poem to learn and laugh with! I love the way Elinor's poem shakes it all loose and gives thought folic!

[magic dubris]

Elinor is a 3rd degree black belt in karate!!

[Don Berger]

Pure, blunt, persistent, vital, real, enviable, direct, fun, charged, this poem wakes life up and reminds us of how vocal a voice can feel and be.

[Simon Schuchat]

Ah Elinor -- what a wonderful voice, so sane