about mark flanigan

Cincinnati native Mark Flanigan has been writing and performing for over 14 years....Works from his collections Wrong-Way Poems For One-Way Streets, Not Necessarily God Stories and Next to Nothing have appeared in a variety of independent publications and, along with his performances, have garnered critical acclaim. He has also co-written a screenplay (“Midway,” with Brian Keizer), edited a literary publication (omnibscure) and worked to develop, produce and curate various gallery shows and performance readings -- notably, VOLK/c.s.p.i. and Intermedia Series readings at the Contemporary Arts Center and the Weston art gallery. Flanigan’s monthly column, “Exiled on Main Street,” appeared for over three years, first in x-ray, and upon his resignation there, at semantikon.com. Performances of his can be found on “the Volk/c.s.p.i. spoken word series CD (2001),” which he co-produced, and on the CD “One Night Only" (2002).   To learn more about his work, read his blog, review some of the works mentioned above, and listen to additional audio tracks:

Visit markflanigan.com

flanigan audio
mark flanigan exiled from archives

October 2007: The Dance

June 2007: Cake
May 2007: Special Edition "Light Travel" Mark Flanigan and Steve Proctor
April 2007: Zero Hour
March 2007: Prelude to a Kiss-Off
Jan 2007: State Of The Disunion Address 
Nov 2006: Youngblood
Oct 2006: How I Spent My Summer Vacation
exiled on main street archives

About Artist:

Exiled from Main Street 2: Taking Stock

I’m on lap 34 and sucking air.

only 34 and can’t anyone spare a lung?
tonight it’s 34
and no I never will make it to Disney,
34 sucking wind
still wondering if not now, well, when?

34 always a full glass to forget the one that’s half-empty
34 a dog on the shelf

34 middle age without having ever matured
34 spider veins on top of acne
34 dark clothes for a dark horse and
time still no friend of mine

34 too old now for prodigy but somehow still too green
34 alive not so well but never really expecting to be
34 wish you were here, glad I’m not there

34 and another four until I become President
34 will we make it?
34 and still I’m stooping for votes
34 in search of a state that’s neither red nor blue

yes, 34, which doesn’t quite have the same ring as 33
maybe I should lie and say I’m
33 still hopeful there’s a place for me
no phd, so little to say it fits in my mouth perfectly

          Inspiration over Talent
          Instinct above Education
          Spirit before Intellect

only 33 and throwing out my hand while saying half-way isn’t as far away as it seems

33 and here we aren’t again
33 nor were you everything you were cracked up to be,

33, and none of that Paul Westerberg crap, not tonight,
now that you’re 34, still on the floor
34 a cheap suit with a nice fit

34, still a shit

34 bigger in the belly, holier of heart
34 do me the favor of not mentioning it

34 already with memos to the self on my own answering machine
34 changing lanes, switching gears, on the other side of seventy
34 and sure my teeth too yellow for billboards

34 knowing nothing, knowing this, that much,
tonight I turn 34 and never more
for my picture.