Thursday, April 28, 2005


Don't blink poetry fans. That's right, it's time for another installment of Poetry Snark's exciting new series, Where Are They Now: Lost Poets of the 70's. This week's feature poet is David Allen Evans (click on the image to enlarge). Completing our "Sideburns Diptych" with Thomas Brush, Mr. Evans has more turtle-like hair, a more penetrating gaze, and, oh yeah, this poem.

Use the comments section to coax out the genius of his verse, or to tell us where David is now. David, you out there? What the fuck are you staring at in this photo? Posted by Hello

9 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

Call him "the Valiant"--classic opening line...

1:49 PM, April 28, 2005  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I just Googled David Allen Evans. Apparently this guy is (or was in 2003) the Poet Laureate of South Dakota. Who'd have thunk it?

This particular poem is an example of what you could call West Coast imagism. It comes out of the Gary Snyder school and lacks the druggy funk of the Bolinas crowd in favor of a more natural high. That is it's less Neil Young than John Denver.

Anyway, the idea was that by living an honest life and doing honest work with your hands you could cobble together everyday verse that would last. The result is some very earnest shit that lacks snark appeal.

Poets like Evans forsook the musical in language and went for the visually mimetic...hence the run on sentences of the Ford going down the road and feelin' bad. Tastes like Bull Durham and bancha tea.

1:53 PM, April 28, 2005  
Blogger Snark said...

Lacks snark appeal? Actually I thought "tastes like Bull Durham and bancha tea" was pretty solid snark. And earnesty has never stopped anyone before. Nevertheless, stay tuned as I will be offering quite an array of snark-ready 70s verse in the near future--something for the little snarks in each of us.

4:44 PM, April 28, 2005  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

man, the Valiant wrote a way better version of this poem in his book MY DUSTY POEMS. I think the last few lines(?) are something like "her mouth is a bird's nest in his lap to which his penis-bird always returns singing"
David Allen Evans. Poet Boreate of South Dakota more like it.

7:14 AM, April 29, 2005  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Dear Mr. David Allen Evans,

I'd like to know how in hell you could see her hand and his knuckles from where you were sittin'.

Mind, you're in a dinky Plymouth Valiant and the Stetson dude and his black-haired Sally are way up high in a Ford Custom Ranger pickup. Right?

Are you fuckin' with us Evans?

1:33 PM, April 29, 2005  
Anonymous D.A.E. said...

Actually, what I saw was her head bobbing up and down, but we don't talk about those things in South Dakota.

3:32 PM, April 29, 2005  
Blogger Zinnaida said...

Man, all this talking about the seventies is enough to make me want to drink T.J. Swan and smoke some homegrown.


Memories...like the corners of my mind...............

Jesus Christ! Some one help me. I'm having a bad flashback!

11:07 PM, February 03, 2006  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Dave Evans teaching creative writing at South Dakota State University in Brookings. He wears green a lot and seems really angry. In the photo he's probably staring at a young girl in the drive thru at a bank. He's got a dirty poem all about it.

12:10 PM, February 23, 2007  
Blogger Anna said...

The straight across bangs remind me of someone....

http://annafulford.blogspot.com/2007/07/blog-post.html

3:05 PM, July 19, 2007  

Post a Comment

<< Home