poetryrepairs #236 v17.04:043

L. WARD ABEL : Clung
L. WARD ABEL : Little Mountain

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L. WARD ABEL
Clung

The train I swear it blows in a g-flat minor key blows through Aprilís yellowing thatíll be green in a little while a spring belies changing but not change like a calendar changes. One of my earliest dreams still comes back: itís a crowd roar the end of a red tail cry then trumpets from an eastern place and itís over. In a try for help I hold my hand out the window for as long as I can stand it in the last frost of the year. I hear CSX the wailing horse holds a note a chord it only slowly loses pitch. The tracks go toward Columbus with her Phenix City past though I know the horns will come from the other direction.

poetryrepairs #236 v17.04:043





L. WARD ABEL
Little Mountain

I am Lincolnís age when he met his Booth. This country missed its chance for holiness, its chance to walk up the little mountain. His wound still wet sours on me like Godís tattoo.

poetryrepairs #236 v17.04:043






   




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L. WARD ABEL poet, composer and performer of music, teacher, retired lawyer, lives in rural Georgia, has been published hundreds of times in print and online, and is the author of Peach Box and Verge (Little Poem Press, 2003), Jonesing For Byzantium (UK Authors Press, 2006), The Heat of Blooming (Pudding House Press, 2008), Torn Sky Bleeding Blue (erbacce-Press, 2010), American Bruise (Parallel Press, 2012), Cousins Over Colder Fields (Finishing Line Press, 2013), Roseorange (Flutter Press, 2013), Little Town gods (Folded Word Press, 2016), and the forthcoming Digby Roundabout (Aldrich Press, 2017).


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