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~ advice I would give my young writer-self

Settle into a chair,
reclining, poised.
Find the cradle,
the thrown-away river,
fear & crabgrass stitched from
a swimming-pool lawn.
Remember to be the sling
back, there are often seats—
leatherette banquettes
from a jettisoned car beached
beside a dishwasher sideboard,
a chest freezer overturned.
The tension is between
hanging or fallen, apart.
There will always be angles.
The words will insist on
wandering
their scrap-yard tracks.
Past discarded
sinks & vanities & tubs,
crooked as a mouth of teeth,
where monster-toothed machines
ache the inexplicable
into depth.
Hellish, yet enchanting
once unearthed.
A ravine forever echoing
what’s said.

 


Nancy Flynn grew up on the Susquehanna River in northeastern Pennsylvania, spent many years on a downtown creek in Ithaca, New York, and now lives near the mighty Columbia in Portland, Oregon. She attended Oberlin College, Cornell University, and has an English M.A. from SUNY/Binghamton. Recipient of an Oregon Literary Fellowship, her recent books include Every Door Recklessly Ajar and Great Hunger. Her website is www.nancyflynn.com.

© 2018, Nancy Flynn

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