Archive for Kevin Evans

Poetry by Kevin Evans

Posted in Poetry with tags , , on October 21, 2012 by C.C. Beissert




“Marginally Young”



What happens when the milkman goes missin’,
one October evening orange juice drinkin’ tastin’ the autumn?
Smilin’, smilin’, his best,
brightest reflection, a little
girl on a milk box stands
next to him, he’s still smilin’ but the whole
picture is a question,


What happens when the milkman goes missin’, do you
visit him in the land
of nothin’, in the time of
What did they expect,
what did they want?


He stepped away for a cigarette
and never came back from lunch,
never came back for lunch.
What happens when the milkman goes up & missin’,
and he was hardly even done?
Marginally young.


Kevin A. Evans, September 5, 2009



Kevin Evans lives in Asheville, NC, turning up at open mics, poetry readings, late-night dive bars, and on street corners, carrying with him folded letters, receipts, and traffic citations with poems scrawled into every possible margin. Evans works construction and other temporary jobs by day and at night delivers his poems with that deep, intense voice like dark lightning. His craft is unique, largely influenced by the lyrics of great American songwriters (including Bob Dylan, Paul Simon, Stevie Nicks), and cultivated in the university of the streets. Evans has been a modest yet constant figure in the Asheville poetry scene since the Green Door days, for more than ten years. He writes poetry strictly for art’s sake. Evans also is a conversationalist and always is good for some high-end bullshit—an art in itself.