The Great Poetry Project

August 8, 2008

Here it is, the good, the bad and the ugly of my poetical effusions. I’ve posted more than 100 of my poems so that all can peer into my soul, as it were, the wistful, the funny and the dark and the dank. Almost all of this stuff dates from 2001 when I was a member of a poetry reading group. Some of it is embarrassing, some of it quite skillful if I may say so. Some of it is almost there with a little work, some are unfinished. A least a couple of them I’m quite proud of. Anyway, for the edification, boredom or brickbat throwing of all the world, Evan Gilling’s Poetical Works [an ongoing project], in no particular order, here at Gravybread on WordPress.
REMEMBER to scroll through “previous entries” at the bottom of each page to access them all.

Just to give a flavor, here is one of my better ones:



We walked gingerly
through fetuses
of the American Dream;

through skeletons
erections coming
into being

we poked around
in places
soon to be the spaces
of strangers

we didn’t belong,
as we glided
through wall frames,
grazed wires

we probed the guts
of blueprints,
secret plans
and dreams

bundles of seams
where electricity
and blood
would pulse

warm cases
for the breathing
to sleep and grow

row after row
of identical
unfinished creations

secluded havens,
neatly arranged
in crowded isolation

the same
American Dreams


c. 2001, 2008 Evan Gilling


walk into blueness

February 29, 2008

Walk into blueness,
Sacrifice solidness

Seek solace in mist,
Kiss blackness

Soar on stone
Shout silence


c. 2008 Evan Gilling


January 11, 2008


the gun point
plumb blunt

stops cold
on skulls,


brains stumped,
legs stuck,
eyeballs pulled into
the hole bolt

run, bolt

the punk thumb,
rubs barrels, nubs

pumps fear,
feeds the blood,
mind stunted
junk diet,

bloodlust boiling
crushing the handle
cocking metal

to pump, pummel
and fuck heads

to get off
on a hardcore
bullet cum explosion


c. 2001, 2008 Evan Gilling


January 3, 2008

the silver service she bought
should nerve-wrack insurers
all the bric-a-brac secured
behind lasers under glass
and she’s spastic
about their placement
in case miss manners
should notice, taking notes
rote down about where
they go by the napkins,
and the animals
wrapped in napkins
snort and sniff
and slap down their truffles,
their ruffles and frills
adorning their fat,
their curly cue tails secured
in their panties, and panting
for more and their forks
adorned with fat
as the smorgasbord
on silver platters
reaches critical mass
and stuffed until
they’re roughly obscene
belching and ready
to toast the queen of the ball
for her tasteful settings
then letting farts in stalls
we’re all gonna smell
on Monday,
when the setting is cleared
and the linen is cleaned
and the platters are glassed
coveted and held
before the mass and blessed
secured and fast,
and passed like the grail
before the rabble.


c.2001, 2008 Evan Gilling


January 3, 2008

in their minds
by the din
of their deceits
and lies,
they walk
discreetly absolved
and sinless

c. 2001, 2008 Evan Gilling

i should have licked the venom (unfinished)

January 2, 2008

I should have licked the venom from the ink on the paper
and felt the spittle and the sweat in the words
tasted the acrid bitter grounds in the dark oil
breathed the fermented methane decay
you siphoned from the well,

I should have tasted the last fire from your tongue
heard the final hisses and caught the spray of spit;
even hatred is obliged these considerations,

but you raised a cheap Bic
and lit the pages with nitro
and stood back far away
as far from the blast as you could

c. 2001, 2008 Evan Gilling

fragrance of dust

January 2, 2008

Plastic flower leaves stay green
roots of shafts in styrofoam
self sustaining, never changing
never needing rearranging
no watering, no wilting
no color shifting
no hassles no demands
sitting still unnnoticed
with a plaque and stand

Eying the calendar
for days on end
Sometimes I remember
to blow the dust
from the leaves and stems

c. 2001, 2008 Evan Gilling