Wednesday, June 25, 2008

On the kitchen floor the women by L. Ward Abel


On the kitchen floor the women,

two, wrestled in that town of twelve million.

One would be thrown into the hinges,

the other would be heaved against the oven.

They wore short cotton skirts without sexiness,

as being drunk isn’t attractive, just intriguing.

The guys and I watched, as we were drunk, too,

no better than them, a bit of fun among exiles.

Sink garbage was piled high from meals

better forgotten, shaking in that frenzy,

hoping for less aggression and more

intimacy, but to no avail. Our door was eventually

knocked out of its frame, our kitchen now open

to hordes, to others like us.

Outside, the rowhouses of Bromley hovered

then perched upon southeastern hills.

Inside, momentarily refocusing between rounds,

my friend Jim counted his ale stash


Playhouse down by Murdocks.

Poet, composer of music (Max Able/Abel, Rawls & Hayes) and spoken-word performer (Scapeweavel), L. Ward Abel lives in rural Georgia, and has had hundreds of his poems published in the U.S., Europe and Asia. His chapbook, Peach Box and Verge, has been published by Little Poem Press (2003). Twenty of his poems are featured, along with an interview, in a recent print issue of erbacce (UK). Abel’s full volume of poetry, Jonesing For Byzantium, is published at UK Authors Press (London, 2006). His new chapbook, The Heat of Blooming, is forthcoming from Pudding House Press later this year.

Photo by Adam Lawrence.
The piece is by el celso.

Austin, TX based Murdocks roar and dance on their latest ep Roar!. Playhouse Down is a song of fading youth and the fear of being left behind. "Boy you better move on..." or you will be forgotten like the sink garbage. For more information on Murdocks you can visit their website here.

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