By Ryan Quinn Flanagan


The mind stays in the black

and the body follows.


The confusion of rush hour roundabouts

cleared up in a way I could not explain

to you five minutes ago.


Things are fluid.

The stairwell is a shipping crate

that dabs stretched limousines

out of their length.


I hear you laughing.


With ears

large as spot



The clothes

bunched in a pile

on the floor


like the human experiment

starting out

all over again.


Ryan Quinn Flanagan is a Canadian-born author residing in Elliot Lake, Ontario, Canada with his wife and many mounds of snow.



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