the dance of the soul

the dance of the soul
incomplete

always incomplete

things that are done

are dead or false

this place that we are

this place that we are

it might be the place

of all places places

the place place 

white snow 

white frost 

glittering world

like spun sugar

Vikings

 

CM Evans

2020

Acrylic on Canvas, Pen, Cardboard, Oil Pastel

24 x 24

Walking Around the Garden With Mr. Miro

 

CM Evans

2019

Acrylic on Canvas, Putty Knife

22 x 28

Remembering How Every Detail Is So Real And Every Flower Is Like A Mountain And Bees Are Like Eagles

CM Evans

2020

Acrylic and Pen on Canvas

36 x 48

this joyful moment
clear and unbridled
the start of winter

in the joyful moment

by abandoning all my heart's plans

of admiring this very moment

---

Florida St South

love is love

love is love
and people have been
embracing it 
and destroying it 
for all time

you can have love
be positive
or horrible or
weak and indifferent

you make love
into whatever 
or however 
you
want to experience it
as 

because love
is universal 
and eternal 

so how
would you 
like to 
experience 
love?
choose.

10-19-20

 if you put me in charge of everything 

you will be disappointed

do you want to be disappointed

Poem - all the curse words

all the curse words

for this year

used up 

but i was the cause

to start with 

what a savage

savage world view

to feel a curse 

even once 

would work

>>>

Poem - the skies promise stars

the skies promise stars

we get plenty of them 

how the universe loves us

this autumn night millions

every conceivable path 

your feet touching them 

dipping your toes in

a midnight lake

**

Poem - in the blue bathrobe in the rain

in the blue bathrobe in the rain

up to your elbows in water

trying to get the drain unstuck

at the base of the driveway 

there are some thing you will remember

the weight of the robe soaking wet

seeing the mark above the garage

where you knocked bikes off a rack

***

oh what a charming stream 
passed over by me but not to itself 
i was here or there blocked by thoughts
concerned amazed by silly asides

while stream never moved it just flowed
leaves in it by day rippling stars at night 
through meadows of grass and many copses of trees 

a pleasant scene of a pleasant stream 

the mind conquered and the soul reminded

by the stream that as all our plans are like leaves

that it takes and makes disappear round the bend 

around another bend and so on till all is gone

They mark it DEAD END
But I call it a the start of something new
For at your feet begins a meadow 
Full of tunnels of dew and leaves still green 
And if you go further you find a stream 
Whose waters and shimmering sands
Glint coldly gold and silver specks 
Alive with sleeping fish nature’s body 

Poem - shhh! do not speak

shhh! do not speak

the moment is so delicately poised

like a tiger about to pounce 

like a candle could go out 

==

I dream I am in back my routine job in Heaven, and God has lots of things to say because it is Monday

I dream I am in back my routine job in Heaven, and God has lots of things to say because it is Monday. When I wake up I can't remember what my job is in Heaven, but I dream about it from time-to-time. 

But back to the dream:

"Take a look at all these new fish." says God.

I look at them. 

"I want you to sort them just like the other ones before, OK?"

"Gotcha." I say. 

"You sure you know what I'm talking about?"

"Yes sir."

God isn't sure but he's willing to let me do my best.

"I'm going to round up some angels to do some encouraging in Brest by 4 O'Clock."

"That sounds nice."

"Doesn't it? It will be fine. I'll be back when you're done with the fish. We might paint rain this afternoon, so it is nice and silvery."

Before I can reply, God puts on his grey sweater and heads across the cool white room of clouds and out the door full of moonbeams and pillars of sunshine. 

Poem - he stood there in the play area hood up

he stood there in the play area sweatshirt hood up 

dressed in blue and gray and black

watchful and hostile for some reason 

while his wife or girlfriend pushed a little girl in a swing

he kept watching to see if anyone would look at him 

and he'd push an empty child's swing 

next to the swing his child was swinging in back and forth 

sometimes the full swing and the empty swing 

would be swinging at the same time in the 

same direction 

**

Poem - for every threat or every other normal thing

for every threat or every other normal thing

here is this day striven out with dereliction or grace

that converts strain into sudden pleasure and stain into meaning

emotional pleas from trees black bark and yellowing leaves

not so many going now to fall but soon a waterfall of reds and yellows

every street and alley canyons of hue and the mind begotten anew

more days in there with duty or sloth patched or sundered 

whittled down like droplets of ink into a black story of a black night 

or unexpectedly lifted when every angel's plea is detected 

***

Poem - it is foggy but

it is foggy but 

keep walking forward like you know what you are doing

the trail is slick and you are alone as you go you can't go back

but you pretend at the end of the walk there is no sense of loss

go in and boil water 

put away stray groceries and make sure everything is placed 

as if you are on a ship bound for the northwest passage

the sky the ice a milky hue one and the same with the sea

memories like waves 

how you thought it would be impossible to make such a way

to be alone on a path in the fog with children far away

on their own walk and their own voyages you do not take

----

Poem - normal spacing

normal spacing in fall

seen through one window

one room one couch

three paintings

eight pillows two throws

one ottoman one tray

two mugs one glass of water

18 sheets of paper 2 written on one crumpled

eight pieces of mail one post-it

six pens 1 pencil 

two cats one girlfriend

one boyfriend four books

two newspapers

three smart phones

(one that is used as a clock)

----

florida street south

Poem - oh you know, to go on

oh you know, to go on

to write on 

it takes courage and a bit of sut

stu

stupidity or stubbornness

even some humor don't you see

---

robert nye

robert nye

wrote poems about fresh bread tears and the moon's hair

words about singing and bedeviling his wife

as a novelist 

wanted to be remembered as a poet

think of all the vaunted things you want to be remembered for

would it be for silliness

imperfections and tall tales 

or how numbers ideals and guns mowed down people justifiably