An Endless Storm
The distance between a thing and its name:
A waste land, an anarchy, a maelstrom,
A fictive space, an endless storm on Jupiter.
What are one’s poems about? About how one
Thinks in language, how language gets in the way of thinking.
How one fails to acknowledge the bitterness of beauty:
Its uncorrupted substance, its quintessence,
The uneasy scribbles like hesitation marks.
by Eric Pankey
from Plume Magazine
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