• Flannery Maney

Paris

Sprinting through the fog

Seen and born and heard and felt

Shining skin, frigid air, enlivening of all the things

Wet pavement, calloused hand, comfort, come with me


I know a local place, stay for hours

Wet ground, dry wine,

We are alive as music swells, the sway of former things

Thick oils on the walls, comfort, mother, guidance, come with me


Horns and deep vocals, rasp, clasp my hand in yours

Two languages collide, laundry lists of stories

Blaring light refracting, flashing from the Seine

Jump in, ride along in the sweltering swerve, come with me


We are the Spring leaves, swaying, soaking in water

Our sneakers run on the pavement— ancient, tiny minuscule

Pieces under—former lovers, grandfathers at war,

Ancestors crawling forward, holding onto the stem, come with me

The Seine is life, it breathes, it moves, it peaks, it guides

Sit beside it, touch heaven, touch wood,

The Seine is danger, the Seine is lifespan, everything we need

And everything we lose, ebbing and bobbing with spray, come with me

Until the leaves freeze over and fall and die. Seen and born and heard and felt and gone

come with me

1 view

Recent Posts

See All

Red Lips

When I was a little girl, Your stories had fabricated happy forevers— Sprinkled with falsities in magic worlds And you would add glitter for good measure. You made terrors charming, In blue jeans and

The Violent Positivity Complex

Hit the pavement and the ground running— Shoot the shit and for you, we’re gunning. Go hard or go home, break the ice, press your luck, and roll the dice. Snap out of it and sink your teeth in, break

Learned Helplessness

Each time around like a carousel The smiling strangers like harlequins posed A stranger turned ally turned object of desire And another window of opportunity closed But it’s the hope that gets us It f

MONTHLY MAIL
I have big news! Get insider info about the launch of an exciting new development!