by L. Ward Abel
Dry leaves,
the wind’s a million clapping hands.
I situate myself in the well of an evening
when high ceilings descend dispensing
with any possible coolness on the floor.
Your expression is one of suddenness,
the thin soul, the bier intrudes into open
ground. And callouses, layers, onions hover
like cliffs in Wyoming, reddish, scant evidence
of skeleton applause deep in cobalt blues
never knowing freedom from such.
L. WARD ABEL - [Read Full Bio] is a poet, composer and performer of music, teacher, lawyer, lives in rural Georgia, has been published hundreds of times in print and online, and he is the author of Peach Box and Verge (Little Poem Press, 2003); Jonesing For Byzabtium (UK Authors Press, 2006); The Heat of Blooming (Pudding House Press, 2008); Torn Sky Bleeding Blue (erbacce-Press, 2010)...
[Featured]Digital Art / Photography Image Credit: all you touch and all you see is all your life will ever be by J. Spahr-Summers, ©2015
Snapping Twig – Winter – 2014
Vol: Nov 2014 thru Jan 2015
Snapping Twig 