Holy Candle Blues by Michael D. Amitin27 Mar 2018, Posted by Poetry in
Art: Marie Dashkova, @melodyphoto
HOLY CANDLE BLUES
In the red-sweet sunset
angel brother bent his blown glass ear over the wall of eternity
listening in on my restless rathouse jam.
She entered peeling story-caked walls
riding lightning rod brooms swept me out to half-dippermoon bridge
we swung downtown where
waltzing heirs warmed six-figure derrieres above smorgasboard fires
I faked all the right questions into hell’s paradise
panting at the emerald city orgasm
waiting beneath her magnetic olive skin sink or swim cocktail feast
ignoring the runaway beast
and someone beamed
they make a great couple
as we dished sweat
to god’s blistering last-chance desperate romance bugle call
my ragged sailor heart pirouetting out the hornpipe door where muddy cliffs lick their chops and more..
On the way down
the devil in white linen gown served dark red obsession wine
before flaming flambé soft brown coconut limbs stole my grin
a fly doing backflips in the honey pot.
The lava-baked sea
million miles away
a moaning rusted ship creaked like a red infection begging to be freed from the last ripples in that skin game port.
You knew all along prophet of the beautiful tracks
that my ramble played in a forest of doom
I surrender dear Monk in the sad samba night.
That wind pushed me mountains away
flushed me out of hiding in the prehistoric pubescent
at the piano bar you played me like a thundering chord
till a midnight candle grabbed the shades
fire roaring down in flames
we crawled like god’s sweet snails to the clear-as-a-bell day.
Glaring up through the dark blue smoke
where red sunset angel rained wild, untamed amazing grace ashes
down on desperate love’s last twitch
applauding the singed curtain call
live! live! he cried from his bongo perch on heaven street
hot orange coals fading in the chilled breeze
words we’ll never speak again you and I
unless fate has too much time to deal strange train cards.
This harp strung midnight reverie
sad violins hijack innocent dreams
and twist the arm of violet-coated wishes.
In my hidden dark room
holy candle blues…
whispers a sea wind blowing.
About the author:
Poet, storyteller, and musician, Michael D. Amitin has traveled the roads of the American West from California – east through the smoky burgs and train depot diners of Western Colorado, where he lived. Amitin covered endless, boundless stretches of America’s highways before moving to Paris, France where he currently resides.
Inspired by Yeats, Ginsberg and Corso, Amitin’s style incorporates surrealism, paradox, opposites, imagery and wordplay. To date, his poems have been published in Black Magnolias, Poetry Pacific, RedRiverReview, IndigoRising Magazine, and Bewildering Stories.
A current collaboration with photographer Julie Peiffer has given rise to “Riverlights”, an evocative alloy, fusing Amitin’s poetry and the illuminating photography of Parisian, Julie Peiffer.
Art: Marie Dashkova, @melodyphoto
In the artist’s words:
My name is Marie Dashkova; I am 25, and I was born in Moscow, Russia. I currently live here. I started to be interested in photography at the age of 12 when I was studying photo-shop to create avatars and images for sites, so I decided to make selfies using old Sony video-camera that had photo options. I was inspired a lot; it became my hobby; now I could use not only images from the internet and photos by different artists, but I could also create something by myself.