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Sep.
2004
Mark
Flanigan
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AUDIO
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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.
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),” both
of which can be purchased at semantikon.com’s artist exchange.
Through the fall, Mark will be touring the Midwest on a supporting book tour
for the publication of his works in the annual review in the stomach. Flanigan
and musician Steven Proctor are also at work recording their first album together
why, available in winter 2005.
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| Mark
Flanigan, Cincinnati, Ohio, poet, performer, editor, poetry,
minute poems, performance artist, audio clip, steve proctor |
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MINUTE
POEMS
Enlightenment at the Buddhist
Temple
nine
Buddhist monks dead.
the
newsman
says
nothing was taken,
nor were there
any signs
of a
struggle.
*****
Codeine
Dream
I feel nothing
but the pain.
*****
all
the faces
looking
for one
I don’t recognize
impossible
in a painting
this familiar
*****
In
A Blue Mirror
some mornings
everything seems so clear.
these are the most frightening.
*****
The Night Watchmen
only we are aware
of that murmur in the distance;
only our thin, blue hands
rest
upon the cover
of that old-leather scroll;
only we, with the sun
at our backs, are pale as Nosferatu,
yet far from being
one of the dead.
*****
Apostrophe
I could speak of my concerns
but that would be betraying myself.
*****
Untitled
Whisper to a stone
your strength and
suddenly
your
shoulders
are heavy
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