Two Poems by Ryan Quinn Flanagan

on

|

views

and

comments

Positive Vision Quest

Dig your many trenches of attrition where you must.
The inside job comes right from the gut
and nowhere else.

Happiness is when what you need to do
and what you want to do become
one in the same.

A sudden collision of ideas, opportunity
and confidence.

The dream world brought to life.
Your greatest success.

The Children of Long Division

The invisible man lives forever,
forever in the eyes that search for him.

He lives forever because he is never seen
and by consequence, always sought.

Journeyman

the cars are parked,
some on the street and some in the winding stone drive,
I can hear the laughter from inside, a party,
someone coughing up a real throaty rejoinder,
and later by the rod iron cemetery it is cold and quiet,
the flowerless dead no longer able to play with their hair,
with various extramarital lovers;
the surrounding buildings all with lights that keep
going out so that I find myself down by a ravine
watching the smooth erosion rocks
peak over the surface of rushing water;
a few hundred bats squeaking their way
through the buzzing winged-insect tumult above.

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, Bourgeon, TheSongIs.., Cultural Weekly, Red Fez, and The Oklahoma Review.


Image by Chensiyuan, CC BY-SA 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0, via Wikimedia Commons

Share this
Tags

Must-read

Two Poems by Jenna Cipolloni

Quarry The sun looks higher here by the quarry Daylight savings a forgotten grumblefor the sleep-deprived days of yestermonth. The time is truly 6:49, but soon thebiddies...

Two Poems by Faith Cotter

Beat An amniotic lake within meand you, floating then the deafening silence,static nothingness where I expected sound. For a week I am a shipwrecknot split open on rocky...

Two Poems by Ori Soltes

Late in the Game We sleep peacefully,side-by-side,except, by chance,when she or I turn outward, to the edgeof our plush and well-shaped bed. Never inward, it would...
spot_img

Recent articles

More like this

LEAVE A REPLY

Please enter your comment!
Please enter your name here