Wednesday, March 27, 2013

Ryan Quinn Flanagan - Two Poems

The Phone Cord from The Wall is a Twisting Snake of Wonder

It has been very quiet, of late,
the brown bag wisdom of half-eaten sandwiches,
much dish soap on the window sill without comment,
me, sitting here in my undershorts
on the couch
watching a carpet beetle rediscover America,
Columbus of the many legs,
a favourite of buckwheat whores,
and there is no telling how the knives in the wall
got there,
I hear life is unpredictable, that’s what they say, right?:
expect a mudslide and a yellow parakeet arrives,
drain flies in the margarine, and
all that?...
Not to worry, though,
I’m as sane as the next bed
still defecating in the bowl
and hanging postcards on the fridge
like felons...

Which reminds me,
I must remember to check the flashlight
for batteries
so there will be shadow puppets
on the wall


Less than 20 000 kms
and his tires
are already bald.

And he is balding too.


We are both 30
year old men-
reasonably healthy -
but he
is somehow

seems to come to a man
all at once.

after wife
and kids.

He combs over
some of it,
but we both
still know.

Ryan Quinn Flanagan is a happily unmarried proud father of none.

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