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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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If I could have spur of the moment crazed unprotected sex with a poem I’d pick this one to take home!
Posted by: Clarinda harriss | April 18, 2021 at 11:38 AM
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!
Posted by: Joan Retallack | April 18, 2021 at 11:45 AM
Elinor is and has always been the great underheralded treasure of the poetry world, and the funniest, sexiest, and smartest underheralded treasure too
Posted by: lally | April 18, 2021 at 01:56 PM
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!
Posted by: Dr. Earle Hitchner | April 18, 2021 at 05:34 PM
Thanks, Earle, for the comment. I personally think Buridan & Balaam should join forces.
But maybe that would be too asinine or illogical.
Posted by: Terence Winch | April 18, 2021 at 07:19 PM
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!
Posted by: Maureen Owen | April 19, 2021 at 12:17 PM
Elinor is a 3rd degree black belt in karate!!
Posted by: magic dubris | April 19, 2021 at 12:58 PM
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.
Posted by: Don Berger | April 19, 2021 at 07:24 PM
Ah Elinor -- what a wonderful voice, so sane
Posted by: Simon Schuchat | April 24, 2021 at 06:07 PM