Elaine Equi

Although it no longer has a body
to cover out of a sense of decorum,
...

The sky is melting. Me too.
Who hasn't seen it this way?
...

despite books kindled in electronic flames.

The locket of bookish love
...

I wind my way across a black donut hole
and space that clunks.
Once I saw on a stage,
as if at the bottom of a mine
...

When a poem
speaks by itself,
it has a spark
...

An arty feline couple parodies bourgeois gender roles
and literary values before the days of  YouTube.
...

cheerful stoic epic
cozy corporate convalescence
hollow gold-brick rhetoric
almighty and sleek
...

even if we won't admit it.

Getting off the subway at Canal St. — 
...

How much greener
is paint than grass,
...

The
silver
hour
...

Leave it to the street vendors
of NYC to improvise a shrine
from whatever they find,
...

A gong is struck
in the temple of a dream
...

Some straightforward
yes and no
...

Of light on water

and the movement of each
individually and together.
...

Give me something
not to pay attention to
and I'm happy.
...

Grateful today
for small things:
...

Well, still that's a lot
of possibility.
...

Brighter light
Lighter shadows
...

Empty cages outline
the periphery of an unnamed thing.
Their emptiness shines
...

are made of light.
Well-lit or seemingly edible,
butterscotch and hazelnut light.
...