RYAN QUINN FLANAGAN

RYAN QUINN FLANAGAN

 

Zilch Animism

Artists are second only to ghosts for being invisible,

and find themselves first among the living.

This is not such a fine condition to be in,

but one that must be spelled out in name

with none of the letters and all the heart.

Sly pauper of notions, there is this problem

of general uncaring for which there seems no remedy

and only more uncaring.

 

Dimple Face

I find him lying on the seventh green

like some sort of asshole.

He is white and ugly as sin.

Dimples all over his face.

Get up you lazy bastard,

the good and the great are trying

to play through!

He doesn’t answer.

Has a face tattoo that reads:

Titleist 1.

Likely some new fangled

gang affiliation.

Look buddy, move it!

I yell.

I’m not going to tell you again.

Dimple face doesn’t move.

Some nice old gentlemen in checked pants

start yelling from a distance.

See, you have angered everyone!

It is time for you to leave.

I pick up dimple face and toss him

in the water.

This ungrateful caddy chasing me around

with a 3-iron so that I have to run into the woods

and gather kindle for a future fire.

 

Technology Is The Failure Of Man

Where to find yourself

when principles have been taken out

by some overly comfortable equation.

Puritanism is cutting the lips right out of the smile,

that is different.

I want the whole gooseflesh to return.

That first kiss that gave you a boner.

Technology is the failure of Man

and not just because I can’t work it,

but because it works on all of us.

Into hours and bytes and emojis…

Discover anything you like.

If it is not yourself, you have failed.

 

RYAN QUINN FLANAGAN

RYAN QUINN FLANAGAN is a Canadian-born author residing in Elliot Lake, Ontario, Canada with his wife and many bears that rifle through his garbage.  His work can be found both in print and online in such places as: Evergreen Review, The New York Quarterly, Our Poetry Archive, Setu, Literary Yard, and The Oklahoma Review.