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Sunday, January 1, 2023
JANUARY 2023 V-8 No-10
INTERVIEW OF RYAN QUINN FLANAGAN
NilavroNill Shoovro
Talking With Poet
RYAN QUINN FLANAGAN
JANUARY 2023
NILAVRONILL: Why do literature
and poetry in particular interest you so much? Please give us some idea about
your own perception of literature or poetry in general.
RYAN QUINN FLANAGAN: Literature, and poetry in particular, have always interested me
because of the ability to express range through language and truly create
almost anything or go off in any direction you wish. The act of writing possesses a freedom in it
that is hard to find almost anywhere else in daily life. All art for that matter provides this lifeline
and I am forever thankful for that.
NILAVRONILL: How do you relate
your own self existence with your literary life in one hand, and the time
around you, in the other.
RYAN QUINN FLANAGAN: The time around me stays pretty consistent in an everyday sense,
even if the world around me appears to be going off the deep end as it does
now. I keep things as simple as I can in
my personal life to combat the crazy stresses of an off-kilter larger world. In
terms of my own self existence within writing, I do many of the same rituals:
listen to much of the same music and drink the same things when I write. I find such consistency in the process allows
me to explore more freely in the unpredictability of the work. Therefore, by limiting mundane everyday concerns,
it opens much up to a more creative headspace of ideas and flow where I can
just get lost in the words and the mechanism without thinking about it too
much. It is a fluid artistic existence,
grounded by a regimented surety outside the artistic spectrum.
NILAVRONILL: Do you believe
creative souls flourish more in turmoil than in peace?
RYAN QUINN FLANAGAN: Related to the last question, I believe it most helpful to have a
little cocoon or personal space of not so much peace, but a familiarity from with
which to create. Your own little space
and time without intrusion is very important for me. That said, the root of the writing or emotive
bent underlining it most often comes from tapping back into that original
formative turmoil that often propels one to create. I know I’ve had my share and tapping back
into all that, revisiting the wounds is vital.
Without that base, I’d imagine writing or other artistic mediums may come
a little harder to someone. I guess what
I am saying is that you need to suffer in life to help later colour your art,
but that I find it most helpful to create from a much different and solitary
headspace when it comes time to put things down on the page.
NILAVRONILL: Do you think in this age
of information and technology the dimensions of literature have been largely
extended beyond our preconceived ideas about literature in general?
RYAN QUINN FLANAGAN: It is true to a degree that expanded information and technology have
certainly extended our notions and ideas.
Being able to reach out and connect with or read/see the art of people
from all over the world is the good side of technology. But I feel the artist should also try to stay
within their own headspace at times and not become inundated with a plethora of
unhelpful information that can often come at you from all sides. Technology and information have their place,
but they are never the entire house.
They aren’t even foundational bricks, but more akin to windows or doors
that provide access and opportunity more than anything else.
NILAVRONILL: Now, in this changing
scenario we would like to know from your own life experiences as a poet, writer
and a creative soul: How do you respond to this present time?
RYAN QUINN FLANAGAN: Personal life experiences are central for me,
but I do try to keep a reasonable distance from the present time. I taste the soup and capture the flavour, but
I never jump face first into the boiling cauldron. That’s not to say you can lose balance when sitting
down and zoning out, I certainly have many times, but some limited grounding is
always good to keep you from becoming unmoored and sailing away from your core
Self for good.
NILAVRONILL: Do you believe that all
writers are by and large the product of their nationality? And is this an
incentive for or an obstacle against becoming a truly international writer?
RYAN QUINN FLANAGAN: Nationality certainly plays a part.
Your upbringing, society, larger culture all that. I think it is pretty much impossible to
escape such things, they will find a way to creep in even if you believe
yourself fully conscious of them and trying to avoid such tropes. I don’t try to avoid them and embrace that
part of me. But I do veer off in all
sorts of ways in my writing and having that ability to travel and experiment
through your work is of great importance.
I never think of it in terms of “international writing,” but just
pushing both myself and things off into strange directions at times if I can,
often without thinking of it. I find
that once something is forced, it falters or becomes formulaic. I like more of the Dylan Freewheeling’
approach; don’t just let it come at you, but let it lead the dance for a few
hours. There is a little bit of
surrender involved and I like that.
NILAVRONILL: Now, if we try to
understand the tradition and modernism, do you think literature can play a
pivotal role in it? If so, how? Again, how can an individual writer relate
himself or herself to the tradition and to modernism?
RYAN QUINN FLANAGAN: I never really liked the word
“modernism,” because so much is rooted in the past and past experiences even if
such attachments are not so readily noticeable.
Modernism for me simply means to push things along; being at once aware
of the literary tradition and the personal need to expand yourself and by
extension, the larger literary cannon over time if you can. Again, a healthy mix of tradition and modern,
but yes, those rather open-ended terms sit uneasily with me. To be both of a rooted past and a striving
future is an ultimate awareness of one’s own creative present.
NILAVRONILL: Do you think
literary criticism has much to do with the development of a poet and the true
understanding of his or her poetry?
RYAN QUINN FLANAGAN: Constructive criticism from
trusted people is very helpful. Writing
in particular is a very solitary process which can easily become myopic without
fresh outside perspectives at certain times.
People come at things differently and the variety of perspective can definitely
be advantageous. Literary criticism is a
far different beast. I personally do not
put much stock in literary criticism as a thing and think it can be quite
harmful to personal artistic tendencies and willingness if followed or adhered
to too closely. Remember, critics
couldn’t stand Led Zeppelin; that should tell you all you ever need to know
about critics. This is not to say I or
anyone else is Led Zeppelin or not, but simply to note that a critic will
always be a critic, often becoming myopic in their own stead.
NILAVRONILL: Do you think
society as a whole is the key factor in shaping you up as a poet, or your
poetry altogether?
RYAN QUINN FLANAGAN: Society does shape a lot of my writing. I watch/listen/smell/touch/experience what is
around me and try to capture much of that in the best way I can. Sometimes, it is in a much more literal
approach to the subject, but often I use it as a diving board to touch on and
then leap off of and relate to something else in a strange artful way. There is something at my core that loves to
jump around and experiment, so where I start off is often not where I end up in
the slightest and that may be what I enjoy most about the process. Not knowing where anything ends up, the
multitude of things you can do with the language to make things dance, even if
it is an ugly dance.
NILAVRONILL: Do you think people in
general actually bother about literature? Do you think this consumerist world
is turning the average man away from serious literature?
RYAN QUINN FLANAGAN: Most people out in the everyday world could
not care less about literature or art more generally. In America, less than 1% ever pick up a book
after high school; that is a depressing fact.
And hardcore bikers thought they were the only 1%ers. Seems there are a lot of them. I try to avoid notions of “serious
literature,” I know what you mean roughly though and I think there is a great
disconnect for most people with not only writing, but art more generally. Music seems to bridge that gap best of all
the arts, but you can see the ills of mass consumer culture on that medium.
NILAVRONILL: We would like to
know the factors and the peoples who have influenced you immensely in the
growing phase of your literary life.
RYAN QUINN FLANAGAN: Mrs. Ballard, my grade five teacher was a big one for me. When I switched schools, we stayed in touch
and she spurred me on. My uncle Larry
ran away from home when he was nineteen and lived on the street his whole
life. People in town called him “The
Reader” because he spent most his time reading the books in the public
library. He is dead now, but they have a
commemorative bench dedicated to him out front the library and some of his
ashes are scattered there. His
stubbornness and love of art and willingness to sacrifice have always meant a
lot to me. My grade ten English teacher,
Mr. Scanlon, helped peak my interest in writing and poetry more specifically by
introducing me to the work of Wilfred Owen, Siegfried Sassoon, Auden, William
Golding, Northrop Frye etc. And then
stumbling upon many writers themselves: Kafka, Fante, Frank O’Hara, Philip
Larkin, E.E. Cummings, Frost, Carver, Al Purdy and so many more. I remember exactly where I was sitting and
how it smelled when I first found Bukowski.
Joyce as well. These moments are
fundamental to me as an artist a human being.
That is what great art does! Music and fine art also play a huge role.
NILAVRONILL: How would you
evaluate your contemporaries and what are your aspirations for or expectation
from the younger generation?
RYAN QUINN FLANAGAN: At present, the small press seems in a good
place. There are plenty of really
talented people out there doing their thing.
And so many wonderful visual artists as well, many that I have had the
pleasure of working with. And also many
dedicated publishers helping push everything along, so the small press seems to
be in a good place right now. This has
not always been so. It will be interesting to see how the younger generation
comes out. There is a menacing
small-mindedness and prevalent censorship (and self-censorship) that is
beginning to filter into all elements of individual and greater societal
life. Everything politicised and
persecuted which is never a good thing for either the creation of art or for
human beings themselves. This mob
mentality is truly antithetical to everything I want as an individual: to
strive and question and create and thrive.
There is a lot out there now that appears to have the natural impulse to
strangle and constrict. I would not want
to be a young person coming up now. The
pressures and indoctrination seem much further along than when I was coming
up.
NILAVRONILL: Humanity has
suffered immensely in the past, and is still suffering around the world. We all
know it well. But are you hopeful about our future?
RYAN QUINN FLANAGAN: I am not hopeful for our immediate future certainly. And even beyond that, the whole world seems
to have gone completely off the rails which will simply add to untold suffering
and the deaths of those often most vulnerable.
Humanity is stubborn and has a tendency to find a way in the end, but at
present, I see very little hope (or even the impulse in people towards wanting
hope or understanding). All I see is
horrible suffering, corruption, chaos and lies.
NILAVRONILL: What role can literature
in general play to bring a better day for every human being?
RYAN QUINN FLANAGAN: I don’t think literature
can play much of a role globally in bringing about better times for
humanity. Most the world has no interest
in such things. Many people are
struggling each day just to survive and not to find the right word. That said, literature and art more generally
can play a huge role on a personal level to improve your life. I know my life is personally enriched by
great paintings and foundational music and writing. Without these things in my life, I would feel
less of a human being. Art connects the
soul through Time. This is how you live
among the shadows and the light and never once succumb to either. How you kick and wail and scream and laugh
and become realized.
RYAN QUINN FLANAGAN is a
Canadian-born author who lives in Elliot Lake, Ontario, Canada with his wife
and many bears that rifle through his garbage.
His work has been published both in print and online in such places as:
Evergreen Review, Our Poetry Archive, Setu, The New York Quarterly, Lothlorien
Poetry Journal, Dumpster Fire Press, Red Fez and the Oklahoma Review. He enjoys listening to the blues and cruising
down the TransCanada in his big blacked out truck.
RYAN QUINN FLANAGAN
God’s Work
My wife and I
are driving up Hillside Ave.
Past the St.
Peter The Apostle Anglican Church.
It is a warm
sun-drenched afternoon over
Canada Day long
weekend.
And I notice a
green wheelbarrow
with many lawn
care implements set out
on the church
grounds to clear away some brush.
God’s work,
I mutter under
my breath.
If my wife hears
me,
she doesn’t say
a word.
Listening to
Martika sing about Toy Soldiers
on the SiriusXM
Radio 80s station.
A six-month free
trial.
Which is hardly
a miracle, but we’ll take it.
I Know Why Fools Pray
It could not be
with more regret.
That mumbling
unsure voice is mine now.
Tumbled walls of
old munitions,
your place still
warm right here.
The unreligious
brought to knee.
I know why fools
pray.
A love so
great,
only an equal
pain for me.
Dead man walking
–
I hear the
rodded golden fields say.
It could not be
with more Hope.
Nothing ever
helped.
A tiny simple
urn I have never seen.
All this pain
and guilt
remains.
The Icing Takes The Cake
Here I am
out on maneuvers
by the sweaty
brown Solomons,
practicing land
assaults
working back
from aging lifeline pinky
and there's
Bazooka Joe up in the gum trees
with salty night
vision goggles for eyes,
looking to kick
a sudden cramp out of
of the latest
rules of engagement
so that the
icing takes the cake,
"like a
sewing needle up a donkey's ass"
which is less
than plain speak for a successful mission
which is what we
all want to be on
when that eraser
on the end of every
grade school
pencil knows better.
Any Man Born Before Me
Is A Tombstone
I wonder
what Lucasfilm
will come up
with.
Probably
your future
if you let it.
Any man born
before me
is a tombstone.
That is what we
mean
by that long
lost treasure
we always find
in ourselves.
God
She kept trying
to talk to me.
She didn’t know
I was talking
to God.
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.
ANETA VELKOSKA
God Is The Name Of Love
God is the name
of love
And the name of
love is God
What resonates
in people's subconscious
Who are climbing
the stairs
From earth to
heaven
Redeeming their
souls
From the good
angels
What admirable
songs they sing
Awakening even
the dead nations
In the womb of
modern man
Turned into
heavy demonic thoughts
Who create karma
from ashes
Flying on the
wings of the phoenix
From heaven to
earth
Through all the
holes in dreams
In which
guardians are born
Some in hell, others
in heaven
Every Man With
His God
Every man with
his God
It falls as an
inspirational thought
Flying with the
wings of a dove
Through the
trials of life
Carrying the
burden of the ancestors
Writing the
Metamorphosis of Descendants
And in the moment
when God is gone
And in its
place, there is a rainbow
He knows that
the colors have been given to him
To draw the most
beautiful world
Using the rain
as a tear of joy
And the sun as a
hidden smile
To a newly
resurrected saint
The God Of Gods Is All Seeing
The God of Gods
is all seeing
But his word is
voiceless
Trapped in the
framework of everyday life
And immersed in
the song of the sea
Engraved in the
minds of lovers
What they long
for the copy of heaven
Left to wait at
the end of the world
Like a
masterpiece - a work of the second order
Which does not
open with Solomon's key
Who resembles a
spirit that blows prayers
For the
salvation of the entire Universe
And as soon as
he leaves a sign in the sky
Love and death
are equal before man...
ANETA VELKOSKA
ANETA VELKOSKA: MACEDONIA. Aneta Velkoska was born in
1978. She lives and works in Macedonia. Work experience: professor, TV
journalist, librarian, writer. Winner of awards for poetry, prose, drama:
poetry book of the year, state award for essay, best drama script of a
festival, first award in the world for Esperanto culture, special award for the
traveling theater "Savages", with students, awards from the area of
education and science. Acts: What Annoys Eternity (2001), Are All Gods Romantic
(2004), First Macedonian lexicon (2004), The second love of the stone (2009),
The Giantest Dwarf and the Dwarfest Giant (2010), Bad Yin and Good Yang (2018),
Endless Frame (2019). She writes drama and film scripts. She makes creations
from natural materials. Likes mountaineering, photography, occult sciences. She
is the author of several multicultural projects.
BELINDA SUBRAMAN
Beyond Orgasm And Belief
Time is God
passing through me
with hurricane
mirrors
in the weight of
sunshine.
Time becomes
photos in
misplaced envelopes
with names we’ve
mostly forgotten
remnants in a
crumbling catalog
turning digital
membrane
then glorious
air jazz
searing the
senses
over flowering
cacti and desert daises
where the odd
deer walk the wild beyond
where I can feel
grateful
a sense of
wisdom
moments of peace
where a memory
blurred into everything
becomes a light
that blinds us into one
where random
chime breezes
breathe
positively
beyond orgasm
and beliefs
like God, you
know
passing through
me.
Poetic Science
Infinity is
connection
to the process
of changes.
We are but atoms
in a molecule
of a single ply microscopic
thread
in the DNA of
the Firmament.
Collectively
every life
past and present
makes one quasar
flash to Pluto.
We are bacteria
on a finger
of the Universe.
The Earth from
Space
is one breathing
organism
poisoning it’s
blood and breath.
The moon is our
child
and mother.
The Sun revolves
around an Event
Horizon
an object so
massive
that no matter
or radiation
can escape its
gravitational pull
eventually
disappearing
into a Black
Hole…
a math beyond
our understanding…
or God.
The End
Morning rainbows
last longer
in slanting Fall
light,
gives twilight
of hope
in all
directions
and sensual
dimensions.
Your companion
in bed
is machinery and
love
awash in white
noise,
tidal breath
bi-pap and
oxygen
concentrator.
The heart swells
as birds
suddenly rise
together,
flutter
specifically beyond the sky.
You go joyfully
fading into the
sun,
burning into
light.
Whether or not
you ever yawned
an Om
or mumbled a
Baptist hymn,
now you realize
everything.
Into The Prayer Wheel
touching
the unaware soul
of a child
or a plant that
dies in the moonlight
the scene is
pumped with mist
and color,
beckon you arise
to the sound of
metal
clashing
caught between
the worlds
eyes open to
thought clouds
blending red
into night
nearly fearing
only glancing
before the
clouds cease
you feel souls
meet,
relay a thought
in love
give us
something
for our fears
not the dark and
the needle
give us
something
like the mist
knows
My Religion
I was raised by
paradox
and Southern
tunnel vision
where God was a magic
word
who mostly
brought beatings
when we gave a
damn.
There was power
in a book
of weird
translations
that made no
sense
that everyone
swore by…
The bigger and
fancier the Bible
the holier you
were esteemed.
Fancy church
ladies had
flowers and lace
hugging
unregulated
misogyny
and rules few
followed
but claimed
they’d die for ….
Even as a child
in Sunday School
on a missionary
track
I could never
make sense
of the Trinity
or how God as
Jesus
could “die for
us”
or how dying
could
take away sins
we
didn’t know we’d
made.
Seeking
clarification
itself was a
sin…
was the devil
whispering.
I remained “a
good girl”
until college
and Philosophy 101
when my entire
belief system
crashed into
history.
Stolen myths.
Borrowed bullshit
with names changed.
God was a
plagiarist
mean and
proud
(continued)
warring for
possessions
under holy
pretense
and a hypocrite
breaking the
rules
enforced on us.
Of course He was
us.
We made him in
our image.
Yet I hold
reverence
for the mystery
of Life:
infinity that
boggles the mind…
our webbed
connections
and roots of
Love.
I call this God.
I believe.
BELINDA SUBRAMAN
BELINDA SUBRAMAN has been published
in 100s of magazines, printed and online, academic and small presses. Her
archives are housed at University of New Mexico, Albuquerque. Her latest book
is Left Hand Dharma from (Unlikely Books) but she has a new manuscript ready
for a publisher. In 2020 Belinda began an online show and journal called GAS:
Poetry, Art & Music which features interviews, readings, performances and
art shows available free at http://youtube.com/BelindaSubraman .
DANIELA VOICU
 |
Disappointments
|
Disappointments beat walls all
over the world.
They don’t let
happiness sing about
eternity.
We are the void between heaven
and them.
God saves us
when we turn, counting us with
even or odd numbers— each of the 99th.
Harps singing a
samba song, and monkeys
dancing naked in floats, announcing a
better night.
Our hands move
what we love, and all depart, and we unify
with the sea, being inedible
goldfish for sharks
Rain is not
silent anymore, and the silence,
after, breaks our eardrums.
sky, moon, people, earth,
all revolve
around them.
Tomorrow we will
forgive ourselves.
(disappointed) ©danielavoicu
One Verse I lick my
juvenile wounds with the tongue
of life. The angels hang
from heaven with broken
string harps It disturbs me
the white as infinity, between love and
destiny. Unforgiving time
climbs on a scale of values, which holds in
hands good deed’s map. I take you by
the hand, extending
another hand to the sky. I cannot ask for
anything… Unforgiving God
looking at me; he argues with
all. Love is not so
simple, says He. It is like the
life— only one verse, depends how you
recite it. (c) danielavoicu
Dirty Queen
How lovely the
morning is, pervaded by the
silence of loneliness, as sleepy green
and red dragons fly in circles around lost
feelings. Next to me on an
old couch, God watches a
movie with clowns. I play chess,
and it is naked all around the
queen, that dirty dirty queen, who reads the
lines in my palm, speaking lies
about my dearest stars. Beside me, my cup of
Romanian coffee is still hot, while I wait for the green
and red dragons to dissipate. (c) danielavoicu
DANIELA VOICU
DANIELA VOICU is a Romanian poet,
editor and painter. In 2018, she was awarded the prestigious honor of Romania
Beat Poet Laureate (Lifetime) by the National Beat Poetry Foundation, Inc.
based in Connecticut, USA. Her poems
have been published in international magazines, journals and various
anthologies |
ANDREYNA HERRERA
You Are My Peace
when everyone
fights
when they have
no tolerance
much less
empathy
feel the time to
connect
with the circle
of spirituality.
Moments where I
need you
to heal the
wounds of the soul
that disturb my
mind and my heart
they do not
allow me to be well
I connect with
you to be at peace.
When the screams
don't stop
when the blows
are strong
I will not be
part of the thick of the fight
I will be calm,
I will be strong, I will be love and peace
to join the
brawl
when it can be
solved by talking.
God extend your
love and your mercy!
this world needs
your love
to give them
peace in aggressive moments
when anger
dominates them, sing them of peace
when pain eats
them up, heal them and give them peace.
You are my peace,
to overcome the bad times
you can overflow
your blessings in the world
to purify the
rivers, germinate the tree
cease fire, save
the innocent animals
above all, guide
humanity for the good.
ANDREYNA HERRERA
ANDREYNA HERRERA: Paola Andreyna Herrera
Herrera. She was born in Potosí - Bolivia. Teacher and Graduate of
Communication and Languages: Productive Community Secondary Education”,
Executive Secretary and Accounting Assistant. Writer, poet, literary and
cultural manager, editor and artist. Published works: Stories "Whisper of
the wind in the middle of the storm", 2020, Literary Miscellaneous
"Universo de Palabras", 2020. Narrative "Alondra Luna",
2020. Poems "Secrets that kill", 2016. Stories "Dissonant
Dreams", 2016. Poems “She and He”, 2015. Poems “Prison of Letters on
Butterfly Wings”, 2014. Poems “Confessions of a Poetess”, 2014. Story “The Poet
Prince”, 2012. She obtained several prizes and recognitions in international
competitions and events, in the area of literature and arts.
JENNIFER PHILLIPS
Culturally Coloured
Shall I compare
Thee
To an Autumn Day
With fire
tongues licking
a snow kissed
field
or
streams of light
that dance and
curl
a crown of hair
a day laid bare?
If I clothe the
Word
the One
the Three
the sound
is a cultural
colour.
Easter Gift
The Dance Maker
danced with words
like none had
ever heard
before.
How poor are our
translations!
He plucked ears
of corn
and the corns of
years
were plucked
and ears were
opened at His touch.
Each seed He
sowed
produced
"100 fold"
like water
rippling on and on
His life and
work continue strong.
Nothing shall
destroy it.
Though death
pursued Him all the time
this life-line
ladder - "Fresh new wine"
quenched the
fires of hell
licking at His
feet
and made a
bridge
so God and man
could meet.
One Of A Kind
There’s no-one
like me.
I’m one of a
kind
So be kind to
me.
There’s no-one
like you
You’re one of a
kind
So be kind
To yourself.
There’s no-one
like God.
He’s one of a
kind.
He is kind.
Living Art
The seed of
heaven
Shatters
The unmoving
dark
With an infinity
of colours
Creating living
art
Little art
pieces
everyone
different
jig sawed apart
or “Placed”
together
giving the world
a glimpse
of the great
work of art
The Art maker
sculptured flesh
from mud
revealed life in
blood
and exhibited
Love
unlimited.
JENNIFER PHILLIPS
JENNIFER PHILLIPS is a Christian
author and has been a member of a number of organisations including the Gold
Coast Writers Association and the Australian Federation of Graduate Women,
where she served as the ACT president for a term and the vice president. She is
a registered teacher and has developed courses, including a successful early reading
program. She has taught all ages and authored nine books covering a range of
subjects including poetry. She is internationally known for her unique forms of
poetry. She was awarded the university title of Massey Scholar, and has won
awards in other fields as well as poetry and academic writing.
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