Craig Evenson

Craig Evenson is a school teacher.  His poems have most recently appeared in such magazines as West Trade Review, Barrow Street and The Louisville Review.  He lives in Minnesota.

The bird poem is the only one I’ve set out to write.  It came from a walk around town taking pictures of anything that seemed out of place – signs that the world was still spinning.  ‘Sun and Snow’ came mid-winter, and in spite of myself, through a window.

 


Bird outside the library

I’d like to see a ballerina
with all her muscle control
lie so serenely splashed
as this bird corpse
this motorcycle wreck
rained from the sky
down a metal pipe
into the street,
the kind of thing
you might sit on a porch
and drink your tea away
while it evaporates
back up through the leaves.

 

 

Sun and snow

I like to see things getting along.
Right now they are quietly playing,
untroubled as children in pictures
by the ruin of their present perfection,
holding softly one to the other.