Eliot Lake, Ontario, Canada
—Wild Man of Borneo Photos of
—Wild Man of Borneo Photos of
Films and Book Covers Courtesy
of Public Domain
of Public Domain
MARMOT
Stinking beast,
colossus mountain mouse,
once mistaken for giant gold-digging ants
by our brothers Arabia,
those readied claws, most robust
of legs, buried beneath rockpile
or digging in groups, padded to the coloured pulse,
head full of willing incisors,
carnal and conflicted, tearing at the locked earth:
driven, jammed and reeking...
Stout-bodied compulsions, the unshared way;
no marker to denote what may come
of such simple greeds.
Stinking beast,
colossus mountain mouse,
once mistaken for giant gold-digging ants
by our brothers Arabia,
those readied claws, most robust
of legs, buried beneath rockpile
or digging in groups, padded to the coloured pulse,
head full of willing incisors,
carnal and conflicted, tearing at the locked earth:
driven, jammed and reeking...
Stout-bodied compulsions, the unshared way;
no marker to denote what may come
of such simple greeds.
101 WAYS TO LOSE YOUR PICKUP TRUCK
He'd decided to sit down
and build the ultimate country
album:
101 Ways to Lose Your Pickup Truck,
that is what he'd call it.
His whirling lasso legs
pulling a necktie
above the rain.
THE PUNK ROCK KIDS
Punk rock kids
know all the best places
to loiter.
And the two tall spike jobs
stand like leather bookends
in a concrete hysteria.
Pudgy stud face
and some acid-wash chick
to round out the razzing
strange beauty.
Blue Mohawk makes a jerking-off
gesture with his hand.
I shake my head
and smile.
Blue Mohawk smiles back
and gives me the finger.
This is going to be a good one.
Sun on my face
and a gentle prodding wind
daring me on.
DISCOVERY
I discovered her
lying there.
A most improbable blue.
Like an alien, though we had known
each other for many years.
I could tell that everything
that mattered was gone.
Just the husk remained.
On that ugly cold linoleum
she never got around
to changing over.
THE WILD MAN OF BORNEO
WAS FROM SEATTLE
Imagine being
the execs
at the record company
and admitting
that you didn't know
how to market Jimi Hendrix
to the listening public,
so that
you start calling him:
The Wild Man of Borneo,
even though
The Wild Man of Borneo
was from Seattle
and cut lawns
for his father in the summers
before joining
the 101st Airborne.
ANGELS & SORROWS
Not a childhood one
this time,
but it brings
me back:
to an angel's dancing
calm,
the sound
of a summer lawn mower
through my childhood
window,
the smell
of fresh cut
grass—
that bed
of a thousand
early
sorrows.
ENJOY THE SILENCE
Standing in a busy elevator
when Depeche Mode's Enjoy the Silence
comes on.
No one seems to be enjoying the silence.
A light Muzak doesn't seem to help.
Awkward looks staring off
into nowhere.
Wishing they were anywhere else
right now.
Depeche Mode
has a lot of work
to do.
MINERVA
For
as long as
it takes,
a ceremonial
headdress.
The epic blocks
of Man,
that fetch
and fasten.
Your own Minerva
to strangle lawless
mountains.
For as long as
you can remember,
our shadow-crescent
eagle
knows its way
to distant fire.
___________________
Today’s LittleNip:
Our feet are planted in the real world, but we dance with angels and ghosts.
—John Cameron Mitchell
___________________
Ryan Quinn Flanagan is a Canadian-born author residing in Elliot Lake, Ontario, Canada with his wife and many mounds of snow. His work can be found both in print and online in such places as: Evergreen Review, The New York Quarterly, Medusa's Kitchen, Setu, Red Fez, and The Oklahoma Review. Ryan has been visiting us since 2018. Welcome back to the Kitchen, Ryan, and don’t let all that snow get you down…!
See more of Ryan’s goings-on at https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100014102676963/.
__________________
—Medusa
For
as long as
it takes,
a ceremonial
headdress.
The epic blocks
of Man,
that fetch
and fasten.
Your own Minerva
to strangle lawless
mountains.
For as long as
you can remember,
our shadow-crescent
eagle
knows its way
to distant fire.
___________________
Today’s LittleNip:
Our feet are planted in the real world, but we dance with angels and ghosts.
—John Cameron Mitchell
___________________
Ryan Quinn Flanagan is a Canadian-born author residing in Elliot Lake, Ontario, Canada with his wife and many mounds of snow. His work can be found both in print and online in such places as: Evergreen Review, The New York Quarterly, Medusa's Kitchen, Setu, Red Fez, and The Oklahoma Review. Ryan has been visiting us since 2018. Welcome back to the Kitchen, Ryan, and don’t let all that snow get you down…!
See more of Ryan’s goings-on at https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100014102676963/.
__________________
—Medusa
Ryan Quinn Flanagan, Wild Man of Eliot
For future poetry happenings in
Northern California and otherwheres,
click on
UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS
(http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html)
in the links at the top of this page—
and keep an eye on this link and on
the daily Kitchen for happenings
that might pop up
—or get changed!—
during the week.
Photos in this column can be enlarged by
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.
Find previous four-or-so posts by scrolling down
under today; or there's an "Older Posts" button
at the bottom of this column; or find previous poets
by typing the name of the poet or poem
into the little beige box at the top
left-hand side of today’s post; or go to
Medusa’s Rapsheet at the bottom of
the blue column at the right
to find the date you want.
Would you like to be a SnakePal?
Guidelines are at the top of this page
at the Placating the Gorgon link;
send poetry and/or photos and artwork
to kathykieth@hotmail.com. We post
work from all over the world—including
that which was previously published—
and collaborations are welcome.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!
Northern California and otherwheres,
click on
UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS
(http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html)
in the links at the top of this page—
and keep an eye on this link and on
the daily Kitchen for happenings
that might pop up
—or get changed!—
during the week.
Photos in this column can be enlarged by
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.
Find previous four-or-so posts by scrolling down
under today; or there's an "Older Posts" button
at the bottom of this column; or find previous poets
by typing the name of the poet or poem
into the little beige box at the top
left-hand side of today’s post; or go to
Medusa’s Rapsheet at the bottom of
the blue column at the right
to find the date you want.
Would you like to be a SnakePal?
Guidelines are at the top of this page
at the Placating the Gorgon link;
send poetry and/or photos and artwork
to kathykieth@hotmail.com. We post
work from all over the world—including
that which was previously published—
and collaborations are welcome.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!
