~eveneden

Omnia Vincit Amor

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About Me Literature / Student Member evenedenFemale/United States

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Deviant for 7 Months

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Newest Deviations

the pattern of my lovers

follows thus:

d
             innocence

         e    c
             goodwill
                     e    i

             lus
            the pattern of by ~eveneden

2 Comments

Signature The straight angles of my name
align the page to themselves, all
sharp strokes and swift lines.

Your name bends. Your name curves
like rivers, moves like clouds, like
the endless circles on our fingers.

I scatter our names across the
page, trace our hands with my
impatient pen. The ink takes shape,

searching for one sure path, the
place where edges bend and
bends edge; where hands hold,

the single signature of love.Signature by ~eveneden

2 Comments

Portrait ... Portrait of the Poet as a Young Pizzeria Employee

I try to remember what I thought of,
doing dishes in the tourist trap, smack
dab in the heartland, zip code Going Nowhere.

Had I been a poet then, I might've seen
in stained plates and warm, sticky beer
glasses some bizarre metaphor for love.

No one wanted me in charge of ovens,
but sharp knives were fine. Lemon slices
stung nicked thumbs; skinned carrots made

me think of penises. His, of course, though
just the one, and blank-nervous moments,
clockwork only where passion should've been.

Perhaps it was some Freudian revenge:
knives and penis-carrots, shedding layers
of heartPortrait ... by ~eveneden

16 Comments

Three Dialogues An ancient vampire and his young creation encounter a priest with a crucifix.

the Daughter, the Bride:

What sick sweet joy have we dancing corpses
that does not delight my soul? What bitter stabs
of taste, slick tongues of your lies, what sounds
of lustful death, have I not craved and cried? You
are fever pitch, caught breath, biting death, enduring.
What have you killed that after I was not pleased to lose?
What have you cost that I would not harvest from my heart?
We've ransomed sons to soothe and stoke the rising tide of
death always in our ears and never beating--you, who put it
there, you who are and have been the thick Three Dialogues by ~eveneden

2 Comments

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deviantID

~eveneden

Q
Artist | Student | Literature

United States

"Sometimes, we must cut the story
away from the world. And sometimes,
we must carve it in."

Hello, deviants. I used to have a different account here but decided to delete it for various reasons. Here I hope to showcase my more or less best work. No poem is ever truly finished, only abandoned, but I'm pretty pleased with the ones up here. Hopefully later updates will also be quality.

I write a lot about love and sex and God.

Stats:
Twenty-something woman with abiding interests in poetry, languages, literature, education, theology, and a host of other random things. Grad student. Almost married <3.

Peace.

The Hiatus

Feb 9, 2012, 1:56:55 PM by ~eveneden
Journals / Personal

Hello deviantart... so I haven't been around for a while... That's because I found out posting poems to the internet counts as "publication," to some people, and everything I write currently is fodder for my thesis, which I have to put together to get my degree, so... There probably won't be any more posts for a while.

Which is unfortunate, because I'd like some non-MFA-workshop feedback, but there it is. But I'm not avoiding on purpose or anything.

I'll try to come back and go on a commenting spree at some point.

Until then, I recommend this poem by Jane Hirshfield:

Hope and Love

All winter
the blue heron
slept among the horses.
I do not know
the customs of herons,
do not know
if the solitary habit
is their way,
or if he listened for
some missing one—
not knowing even
that was what he did—
in the blowing
sounds in the dark.
I know that
hope is the hardest
love we carry.
He slept
with his long neck
folded, like a letter
put away.

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