the poetry that matters

Greg Evason

Greg Evason currently resides in Toronto. He has published about ten chapbooks and his work has appeared in magazines around the world. New work continues to appear on his blog, PROJECT 51 (http://wwwproject51.blogspot.com/).

Besides poetry, Greg Evason writes plays, short fiction and novels and is a musician and visual artist. His drawings and collages appear in the same magazines as his poetry. Many of these drawings and collages, as well as some of his paintings, are for sale on the Internet at two art sites: Artbreak: Explore - Hot Right Now and http://www.discoveredartists.com/GregEvason. He  hopes to eventually produce some CDs of his improvisations on piano and guitar.



someone was standing inside me

as I was standing in the bank

and the two of us

were staring at the guards

as they brought in or took out

bags full of money

and I was scared

because it seemed like

whoever was inside me

was thinking about 

robbing the bank

but as things turned out

that was a one time thing

and I never felt the presence

of that would-be bank robber

inside me 

ever again

which is not to say

I’ve always been alone

since then









my finger went in

created a hole in the wall

out of which dripped

this brownish orange liquid

and then I heard church bells

I decided I would not rent 

that particular apartment


what I ended up renting

was a small house

that existed all on its own

hidden behind a much larger house

where a powerful born again old lady

by the name of Faith

lived with her equally born again

but severely pussy whipped husband

whenever I talked to him

I felt this warm energy 

coming from his chest area

sometimes they brought me dinner

I reminded them 

of their schizophrenic son

who died in a drug-infested car accident

my little house itself

had been built in the 1950s 

by a couple for their schizophrenic son

and I never tortured cats





eggs stay

where they are

on the dais



the palm

of a sad man

to prepare them

for love

and just then

some syrup

and some pancakes

and some hot black coffee

I drove the truck blindfolded 

during rush hour

and took her

and her friends

to exactly 

where they wanted to go

without them telling me 

where and without me

having a clue where I was

when I got there

suddenly they started to giggle

which I assume 

meant I was getting close

I felt directed 

to slow down 

and to turn right

and then to stop

and I heard myself say

“okay, we’re here,

wherever here might be”

as it turned out

I’d driven them 

to this incredible waterfall

I’d never seen before

when they told me

where we were

I still didn’t know

as the name of the place

was not at all familiar to me

so we enjoyed the waterfall

for a while

and did some hiking 

around the site

then it was time 

to get back into the truck

I put the blind fold back on

and drove us all 

back home

to our little town

then within a week

they all moved down to California

to study the chakra systems

of flowers






I watered the flowers

with my sloppy telephone

as I sank ever so slowly

into the cement

of the driveway

just as a bold new opinion

came down

from above

which caused me

to rethink everything

and when that was done

I went back to being

who and what

I’d always been

as the sun swelled

to several times

it’s normal size

and seemed 

to come down

so close

I felt I could 

almost touch it

it was the dawning

of something

and I was 

its only witness

and there was no one

to drive the car





tomorrow I was different

when you turn the page

you will get something different

which is not the way to do it

according to the mar-


which states you should be

the same as you ever were

but I am not Leonard Cohen

nor am I Charles Bukowski

nor am I a lead pipe 

used for bashing in skulls

one day I write a poem

that goes down a page

the next day

I fly a plane upside down

the day before yesterday

I spend drawing naked women

with my left hand

one thing I’m sure I won’t ever do

is drop cluster bombs

on villages

then tears were served

the queen bent over

to tie her shoes

and in that seemingly simple act

lost all her marbles


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