and it is a fine night for them.
The sky wears a coat so blue,
is so naked underneath,
these little buttons must glow
without choice or pause,
as if they were both the glowing and the glow;
both spirit and will gathered
and met like mists above water.
And see, barely--for Crone Moon comes later--
Terrence Flynn has been writng poetry for some time and received an MFA from Naropa University where he studied with various Beats and Buddhists. He and his wife Jean live on a small homestead farm on the southern tip of the Delmarva Peninsula between the Atlantic and the Chesapeake. Terrence teaches English and coaches football and tennis at the local high school. They have a brand new son, Forest Bennett Flynn.
Flynn has been published in print journals, but he is not so satisfied at their remoteness and isolation. He says it is sort of like "winking in a darkened morgue" and he much prefers to read his poems live and in front of people. New to the online scene, but he loves its vastness and accessibility. He thinks every poem is a love poem somehow, but he is a sucker for romance, too.
Terrence really enjoys feedback, so feel free to drop him a message.
Published by permission of the author.