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Evan Norman Poem
It started long ago
As CDs in the car
Overtime hours spent in a retail store
A gift on a date, kept on an old dresser
The idea we are all connected in some way.
From my father and my older brother
In the car rides then, I learned
Why my ideas were foiled
Learning to hate myself in a therapeutic way
A gift from them, to keep in my mind
On my unstable shelf, in my pocket
Keeping me in contact with my brothers
However far apart, we share lines; they’d make me smile
It can bring me relief, a wilted rose,
Abstract art. My parents saw
Tin foil boats in the bathroom sink, they held
Together above the clear ocean
Searching for the porcelain shore
Holding the cargo of our dreams, overweight
Mine drifting far apart from the rest
Vessels that sank with time.
Into the ocean it drove me
Beyond the depths where the sun can’t grasp
But I found them, I returned to them on land
They hand me their CD; inside is their promise.
It’s cheap tickets, that I can come back home,
It’s hearing my family beyond my room
Wondering if their legacy is safe with me
I learned on my ride home to show my
Inner glow, cut deep drilled
Sorrow with their razor blade, but
Am I porcelain, or just the clay I had lost in the fire.
Past the heat, molding the remnants
Of the foil beside my mind
Reminding me of my parents, their embrace
My everlasting friends, telling me
“I hope you're happy.”
Copyright © Evan Norman | Year Posted 2025
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Evan Norman Poem
Breathe in
Dive in the numbing water
Freeze off all the guilt
Use the rusty meat cleaver
Chop off the rest
Speak into the nothingness
Have the river current speak back
Understand the minnows?
Stay in groups, leave in ones?
Be adventurous
Mumble to yourself at karaoke night,
crushing the non-alcoholic drink in your red solo cup
Pretend you peed yourself so you don’t seem clumsy
Red knuckles on the rotten wood
One bang away from bleeding
Sit by the same river
Move to the little island not yet overtaken
Night fall
Skip the stone like your worries
Hold the sky like your burden
Fail
Remember the Swiss Army knife can’t spread butter
Think of Grandma’s kitchen
Be normal
Swim
Swim relentlessly into the empty night
Be the constellation the light of the stars reflects against
Move on
Move forward.
Copyright © Evan Norman | Year Posted 2025
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Evan Norman Poem
There is something inside of me that begs for more,
Something I can never satisfy
So I shove it out of the way, like clutter in my room
Leaving it to rot in my mind
My skin already rots,
From wear and tear.
I don't do enough,
I did too much
Let's run,
Away from the lights to where the stars burn brighter
Where rips and tears are above us, bleeding with light
Look into my telescope and see the past.
Look around and see the future.
Either way we are weaving fate ourselves, whether you remember your needle or not
I lost my spare, but that's ok.
Time itself is a cleaver,
Chopping away all the unsavory, fatty bits of character seeded in your skin like rye.
Leave for six months in low reflection until done.
Rise from the ashes before they blow away like smoke,
To be lost forever among indistinguishable dust among the stars.
But to stay in the past is to go against what time stands for,
Always moving forward to an unreachable point.
The nebulas are beautiful,
And the constellations burn the sky with an unmatched intensity,
But the past is something we cannot comprehend, even if we can see it so vividly.
So let's run,
Toward an ambitious future we all deserve.
So that way, when we finally return to the nebulae as opaque dust
We have no regrets
But until then,
It will all collect dirt in a corner of my mind.
Copyright © Evan Norman | Year Posted 2025
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Evan Norman Poem
I’d Stay Again With Sunscreen Eyes
We’re waiting and waiting, and I can’t see because I have sunblock in my eye. It hurts to see, but it hurts more to blink. I can’t tell if it was worth coming out here; I’m baking in the sun like a lizard, and my eczema-scaly hands give that proposition proof.”Oh, a snag,” My Pepere would say and hope would fill the area until it too got away. That was all the action we’d get; we caught more plants than fish. With water so grimy, it’s weird it's a reservoir. I’ve seen many people fish here and at the other reservoir closer to home. There are no don’t-fish signs here, but there were at home, and I’d see people fishing right next to them as if they were above the law despite being below the sign. I would see them and wonder why with judging eyes. What's worth it? Each time I want to move my legs, the boat rocks because it’s only meant for two people and we squeezed on three. I’m wondering why we’re here despite the fact I asked to go. No bites, and I can barely see, and maybe we shouldn't be here for this long. We lingered in the one spot that had shade, but with no breeze, there was nothing to keep us there. We were talking about getting lunch afterwards, and even with reptile hands, red eyes, and sticky skin, I refused to leave. We stayed for hours, and I felt like maybe no one felt the way I did. Like how those kids felt fishing together in the illegal reservoir. Maybe I’m not supposed to be here, or supposed to stay, but I will remain for longer than I should. Because of the belief that there might not be a next time before we’re eye level with the sign, and realize we were naive for taking those times for granted. Or maybe because there’s a chance next time we can fit in the boat, because there’s one less person. Forgetting when to release my bail, because who taught and reminds me is now gone.
Copyright © Evan Norman | Year Posted 2026
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