As I am drafting a literary theoretical essay, I was reminded of this short but fantastic poem by the criminally underrated David Ignatow.
David Ignatow: No TheoryNo theory will stand up to a chicken’s guts
being cleaned out, a hand rammed up
to pull out the wriggling entrails,
the green bile and the bloody liver;
no theory that does not grow sick
at the odor escaping.
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