Malcolm Evison Poems

This room is an echo –
echo of all my dreams. The actor
waiting for a role. The preacher listening
to silent voices, expecting
...

That is, if I dare say, my destiny. To grasp
and to expand, each feeling moment. Eternity
not mere renewal. Fearing the used-words
...

Reluctantly compliant twigs
permit the murmuring wind
to pluck arpeggios -
...

A sprinkling splash,
a sudden flash
of ruddy gold -
...

A darkly brooding

Congregation
...

Feel the fear tighten
as the man
looks at his freedom
and cannot find a way
...

The howling gale subsides
to lullaby proportions -

the wind’s bluster
...

Full-bounce, full taps -
the odd rim-shot
snapped out
...

Sometimes an unforced smile

masks out fragility, band-aid
...

Suspended in anticipation;
slow motion animation
is the name
...