vox poetica – Marooned Bells

It's just poetry, it won't bite

Marooned Bells

12.12.18 Posted in today's words by

Michael D. Amitin’s most recent poem to appear here was “4 a.m. Zen Sunday Blue” (October 2018)

Marooned Bells
By Michael D. Amitin

Marooned on a couch brown raft-rocking lle-de-France
Sullen blackboard jazz blowin’ from across the navy New Orleans seas.

Slo-mo angels doing somersaults on my torn red curtain reverie
in these broken Halloween bones and mask
I rummage through the ashes that crashed me into
this pink, new golden face dawn.

floating past jagged-edged icicles into the night melting
chocolate Clark Terry’s “They Didn’t Believe Me.”

Love lost is something we can never afford
head stuck on a starboard mast
crashing through storm waves painted in dead dreams.

And feeling that familiar frost-bitten regret again—that we never
consummated the close quarters of then, what are regrets other than
dead sea gulls floating in a ghost soup sea.

Comments are closed.

Latest Podcast Episode
vox poetica archives