Table of Contents

Soaked in rays of happenstance sights


If the Sun will Rise again Tomorrow

To Give and to Receive

Intentionally Unsweetened

Perceived Mentors

Stop Eating Me I’m Only Skin And Bone

You Were Born in my Memory

Dust Covered Windows

Before the Season Ends


Pouring Wine

Helium Balloon

Old Hand Holds Hanging Lantern

Evan Buckiewicz

I'm a writer, web artist and doll artist.



3 thoughts on “You Were Born in my Memory”

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You Were Born in my Memory

“You were born in my memory
already yearning for something further,
distant: what I too
wish I could articulate
but see inside of you.

Like the ray reflects light from the gemstone:
you capture what I could never say alone.
As the ray is to the gemstone:
so my inner world is articulated through your own.

The similes quickly cheapen, the language limp,
these words: movement frozen in time,
a mere fossil of the sacred breath, once whispered in my ear
(so faintly I could barely hear!)

Though maybe, you and I, together when we’re near
maybe we can find inside each other the ineffable
that we can’t find in ourselves.”


“I was born in your memory,
already yearning for something further,
distant: a howling wind
hidden within
the tangled leaves
of dancing bullrushes.

Do not mourn for me at night:
the mundane like exposed blood
will only come forth in gushes.
Do not hope to find me in sight:
better to kiss a masochist
and to find in this
some nuanced kind of rite.

And night after night?
I may visit you, late,
but visit only: take heed.

I was always more pollen than seed.
In the bowels of our first moments,
my trajectory was clear; my nature a fate.

Eve always knew this, a shame you never could,
otherwise it wouldn’t have been an initiation.”