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Flying Squirrels Can’t Really Fly
 
For Larry (1947-2023)
 
Like carnival clowns
that aren’t quite human,
that appear in the dark
then bounce about too quickly,
first here then there, a blur
of loss, of death and infection,
unpredictable, hard to pin down,
hard to hold in one’s mind,
 
his brittle memories,
dry as cicada shells,
crumble away
in rolling sand storms
out of reach
beyond the doors
that can’t be opened,
beyond the lines
that can’t be crossed.
 
My brother lives in a warehouse
now, with a few square feet
to move about, and a bed,
and a lounge chair in which
to sit or sleep near others,
clutching dolls
or stuffed animals
in front of a muted TV
with almost familiar images
looking out at him
from the screen.
 
He has good days and bad days,
and sometimes he passes time
watching the squirrel chase
outside his window,
amused a bit to see their dance
as they leap into the air
from tree to tree,
with complete faith
that their world makes sense,
and they need no safety net
to catch them should they lose
their way and fall.
 
But other times, the worst days
of all are the good days,
for they are when he looks about
and realizes where he is,
even though he can’t quite
recall how he got there.
 
His memories…
thin fragments…
of torn fabric,
or carnival clowns
trying too hard to please,
or squirrels defying
the law of gravity.
 
He’s not sure which.

Copyright © 2025 Terry Allen

“Flying Squirrels Can’t Really Fly” is from Terry Allen’s new poetry collection, Preserving the Past for the Present (Kelsey Books, 2025).

Praise for Preserving the Past for the Present

The witty and devastatingly beautiful rush of words in Terry Allen’s poems mimic the way time and memory flood our senses leaving reflections that crystalize a well-lived life. This book is a sum of folk speaking their stories, the words they utter and the ones they can’t, or as Allen writes, “everyone communicating / just not very well thank you.” This collection is Twain-like in its ironic and humorous look at both relatives and strangers who are as “genuine / as a large glass of oat milk / served next to a heaping plate / of imitation crab” and good “people / we might recognize, if we care to look.” Intermixed with the local color of Allen’s experience and observations are Pinteresque intimations of the menace others make in the world and the absurdity they leave behind. Throughout, Allen leaves us with a strong sense of a past that shapes the present, in a “world where people / live with mercy and compassion” and where the one word that counts is empathy.

—Janet Reed, author of Blue Exhaust: Poems (FLP, 2019)

Terry Allen’s Preserving the Past for the Present is an insightful, funny and bravely observant collection of poems, with so many facets of human experience represented in a powerfully diverse and warmly harmonized accessible style.

—Chad Parmenter, award-winning poet and author of Weston’s Unsent Letters to Modotti

With Preserving the Past for the Present, Terry Allen once again brings us his inimitable style as he remarks on the peculiarities of people around us. From the wry humor of “Things You May Not Want to Order at That New Exotic Restaurant” to the somber notes of “Flying Squirrels Can’t Really Fly” and “About the Light,” his characters and scenes draw the reader into the tales he weaves. In his eponymous poem, he reminds us that we may not know people as well as we think we do. As in “Folktales in the Dark,” his writing provides insights that might often escape us but are right before us “if we care to look.”

—Ken Gierke, author of Glass Awash and Heron Spirit

Enjoy a reading from the book on YouTube.

Purchase Links 

Kelsey Books (Paperback)

https://kelsaybooks.com/collections/all/terry-allen

Amazon (Paperback)

Author Biography 

Terry Allen is an emeritus professor of Theatre Arts at the University of Wisconsin-Eau Claire, where he taught acting, directing and playwriting. He is the author of five poetry collections: Monsters in the Rain, Art Work, Waiting on the Last Train, Rubber Time, and Preserving the Past for the Present. His poems have appeared in many journals, including I-70 Review, Third Wednesday, The Main Street Rag, Still Point Arts Quarterly, and Popshot Quarterly. In addition, his work has been nominated for an Eric Hoffer Book Award, a Best of the Net Award, and a Pushcart Prize.