Home > Fragments > I started near the far north. Ran.

I started near the far north. Ran.

August 23, 2012

by Nancy Flynn

Cowardice to woo exposure most permanent.
The full scatter of scanty toward heaven.
Certainties annulled: object, verb, noun.
Shroud over sense. Strange less lenient.
Fire and weep—the raiment for all nights.
So many truths gathered and within each yes.
Illicitness the final occupation.
I started near the far north. Ran.

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Nancy Flynn hails from the coal country of northeastern Pennsylvania where somehow, at an early age, she fell in love with words instead of into a sinkhole or the then-polluted Susquehanna River. She spent many years living on a downtown creek in Ithaca, New York. In 1998, she married the scientist whose house once hosted parties where Vladimir Nabokov chain-smoked cigarettes. They packed up their Conestoga Volvo 850 and headed for the foothills of the Oregon Coast Range, finally settling in Portland in 2007. More about her past lives, awards, and publications can be found at nancyflynn.com.

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  1. terry fernando newton
    August 23, 2012 at 3:21 pm

    there is a new creation of fulfillment on the path that the journey started from but the clock ticks then oneday it stops.Nancy that poem really opens your thoughts to the now and then,very nice

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