A whiteout of wings.

To all the people who write when they aren’t writing, especially Jo, I dedicate this:


I can feel my ship about to come in.
A white ship in a snowstorm
moving in.

The ship is made of gulls
huddled together
in the shape of a ship.

When it arrives, they will fly out into the storm,
leaving a space inside it
clear as reason.

I can tell there’s going to be a blizzard
of being somewhere else
any minute

because of time’s noise eating itself up
that is the noise of listening
that looks like a seething, florid whiteout of wings.

-Jack Myers

5 thoughts on “A whiteout of wings.

  1. I think what the poet is describing is pretty depressing for a writer – your words coming together in an unstable way and then “flying off” to leave empty space on the page again. “Whiteout” does not have a good connotation in this context either… Is there a deadline coming up?… a blizzard of words…florid… none of these sounds like the kind of success a writer is aiming for, especially a poet.

    But it’s a delight to see how Myers has taken a writer’s frustration and written about that in a picture with so much life in it. The only other thing I have read that sheds so much light on the experience is Annie Dillard’s remark about “alligator wrestling at the level of the sentence.”


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