Chelsey Minnis, _Poemland_

WHAT HAVE WE here? Possibly: a book-length poem, titled Poemland, in eleven untitled sections, each section consisting of 7-11 sub-sections, each with its own page, generally four to six lines long. Or: a volume titled Poemland, consisting of eleven poems, each poem with 7-11 "stanzas" with  its own page, generally four to six lines long. Or: Poemland, a collection of 99 poems arranged in eleven groups, each poem four to six lines long.

Ninety-nine by my count, anyway. Why not an even one hundred? I wonder whether I missed one.

The ninety-nine poems, or stanzas, or sub-sections are alike enough, consistent enough stylistically, to be all part of one work, so one certainly has elbow room to read Poemland as a long poem. At the same time, they are as separable as Legos, perfectly capable of being considered individually.

The poems--that is, the text on any particular page, usually 4-6 lines--are brief, colloquial, personal, stippled with ellipses...in fact, they are an awful lot like Instagram poetry, as here:

You have to love and not justify it any.

If anything can't be justified, you can't be justified...

You are just an ex-wonderboy...

You can try to do something...ex-wonderboy!

At first glance, dismissible. But--not so fast. For one thing, the cover--a UPC box on a background of  pink fake fur, courtesy of Jeff Clark--suggests tongues are firmly in cheeks. For another, one does not expect Ange Mlinko, who respectfully reviewed Minnis in the NYRB, of all places, to fall for Instagram poetry. Finally, and crucially, the poems/pages often get strange in decidedly un-Rupi-Kaur-like ways--

This is the warm vanilla satin necktie...

And a white gloved hand that reaches between the legs...

This is a seeping crystal...

You have to apply a blowtorch to a lollipop...

--and then trip lightly with dilated eyes into the downright disturbing--

This is like someone who pawns your minks...

And it is like a squandered money-gift...

This is the magic syphilis!...

There is no need for the truth...

Like scythes that cut through prom gowns...

So what have here, to repeat my initial question. "With this book I have made a very expensive joke," Minnis tells us (77), a statement that is one respect false ($14 from Wave Books) but may be true in others, e.g., that $14 is pricey for an elaborate spoof, if that's what this is. It may not be. But is there any need for the truth? The jury is out, I guess. At any rate, I think I will read Minnis's new one.