Stephen Evans's Writings
View Stephen’s Books | Read Stephen’s other writings below.
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Poem
Mar.21.2010
The edge is closer,
No matter where you look.
The earth is small, or
I have taller, grown.
What can’t be can’t be known.
What isn’t isn't lost.
No matter where you look.
The edge is closer.
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Article
Mar.13.2010
The Ghost in the Language: Ryle and Logical Behaviourism
Ryle and Descartes' Myth
Gilbert Ryle's purpose in his most important book, The Concept of Mind, is to "explode the myth" of the "Ghost in the Machine[1]". The ghost in the machine is Ryle's self-admittedly abusive description of what he calls the Official Doctrine, which he says...
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Poem
Dec.31.2009
At the last,
we celebrate the first.
We totter on tiptoe,
peering at the mirrored walls -
unaware, unaware, unaware,
that reflection seeks reflection,
dark longs for the light of annihilation,
and mercy is a hazy glass.
The glass shatters, and,
the glass shatters, and,
the glass shatters, and,
the first shall be last
and the last, first.
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Short Story
Oct.01.2009
"The Smiles"
by
Stephen Evans
When I heard that my grandfather had barricaded himself in his room, I wasn't surprised. He and my mother had been battling one another since our first day in the house outside of Cheshire, Minnesota. No surrender was in sight from either side. But if my mother's phone call was not surprising, her worried tone was.
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Poem
Sep.01.2009
Who is it that you love, I wonder?
Sorry, Whom. I see no sign
that it could possibly be me.
Sorry, I. No, me. Whoever.
Sorry, Whom. Ever. Whatever.
Anyway.
Put it this way.
Why do you say that you love me?
You say, don't you? That you love me.
You do. You say. You did.
Never mind.
Put it this way.
If you were going...
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Poem
May.22.2009
Where you were is there but you are not.
The chair is there. The pen. The lamp. Not you.
Not you is there. Is there somehow not you?
Yes. Not you is my devoted friend.
Is not not you you? So it would seem.
My arithmetic is incomplete.
My termination cancels my negation.
You. You. You. Let us pray.
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Poem
Oct.19.2008
I looked for footprints,
sure each step had shaped the earth,
and found the earth enfolding them instead.
As I left, I noticed my own footprints,
nearly covered by wind and snow,
but still enough to follow to the road.
This must be how they shaped the earth,
I thought, with footprints
just deep enough to point the way.
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Poem
Aug.08.2008
I don't think men know much of poetry.
Women have the Gift, because the heart
is closer to the breath in smaller frames.
My own heart never rests. Funny thing.
We ruin with our pulse of Entropy,
new, clear fusion of close, fitting parts,
impaled at the fun end of the games.
I hear it breaking now. A HolloH ring.
Weave with me they say a tapestry,
target for...
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Poem
Aug.08.2008
The barricades lay outside our content
and all the restless harrowing detail
of innocence was washed clean
by the blood of their falling.
We never chose innocence.
We never sought it out.
It is the consequence of barricades.
The deluge reveals buried treasure
sparkling in the new moon
of the Restoration.
The eyes blink and are bold
with newborn sight
and tales...
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Memory in reverse is Imagination.”
—The Magical Dog Who Never Sleeps
About Stephen
Stephen Evans is a playwright and author who came to Maryland for the waters. He was not misinformed.
Connections
Causes Stephen Evans Supports
Best Friends Animal Society (http://www.bestfriends.org)