Archive for May 22nd, 2013

Ryan Quinn Flanagan

It was not for the cabin boy to look out
life preservers –
and a woman screamed
and then a twisted ukulele
and the wings of flightless birds
sat dishwasher still at their own deadpan
orange monks with serene kabob heads
chimed bells, tiny bells
rung through distant mountain peaks
and there was wax
there was wax, I swear,
sticking my finger in my ear
I released all pressure.

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