Praise the Holy One! For from out of man he has created a woman. Woman, to a man is a Thing of beauty, grace, charm, evident of her slow and melodical walk. He is in love with his own mourning, as if she will paralyze him all the way to his death. So where is…
Silver Love Poured Tea
Silver Love Poured Tea by John Gregory Evans © 5/17/2020 3:12:52 AM Your smile, breathless, Ponderosa Pines harvested your voice, Kisses that shed an earthly attire, While Sleeper’s and Pullman’s steal the night, yet Silver love poured tea. The moon breathed deep tonight, Stars gathered Inebriated by the broken silence, Only the darkness smiled! Silver…
This Pale Moon
The pale moon can be invasive at times, lighting up my tiny room, to almost a dim freshness of sunshine echoing through. I think, of love who has passed me by, except the silver love and this lunar sky. We share so many nights, why not, and evenings, too, we are together, espoused we two.…
A Foreign Affair II
A Foreign Affair II By John Gregory Evans © 5/10/2020 2:42:35 AM For just a moment, protracted, a long-drawn-out affair, long black hair, with a painted face, of red, and brown so fair, An indulgent for her time-honored pleasure, an acknowledgement, together We shared an unknown ecstasy silent to the core, quaking to the fore.…
On the Cusp of Blackness’ Ride
Upon the cusp of blackness, we stare, I See a hope clinging to the everywhere, Religiosity is an interior pull Of white corpses Walking, without purpose but to be saved Through the mechanized wheel of Misfortune, where dead bodies aspire to heal. As if a preacher man from the Right Conceals the truth together, tonight…
Trepidation: Woman
Trepidation: Woman By John G. Evans © 2020 In as much the way she makes me feel, By power mystique that seems unreal. Truth-bearing as really in my thoughts surreal, My fate bears witness, my soul she kills. De Sales has written, a spiritual death, To me bears truth with a wanting caress. As Darwish…
A Black Man Once Told Me
John Gregory Evans © 2019 It remains not mine to say whether I would pity a colorful word of verb and noun, or, from where it may come, or the color of its skin, for I have seen the Lord, and, know him to be of spirit not acquainted with such superficialities. I believe in…
Silver Love Under a Crescent Moon
O love! This contented night of a crescent moon lie sweetly b' neath a drunken sky, and your hips of round succumb to the dark, the burn of love persuades me to dance naked with imparted lips, the slaughter of my soul...and finger-tips. The tilt of your head as the burn rushes through, the salted…
John G Evans & Paavo Oso Arts 