Michael Lee Johnson

RAINDROP BABY (version 2)

I'm a raindrop Chicago baby
silhouetted in the night,
single-ringed single person
minus the 24 carat gold.
A harvester of night life,
star crystal,
a gatherer of sluts
in my imagination.

FOG FEATHERS

I am old frustrated thought.
I look into my once-eagle eyes
and find them dim before my dead mother.
I see through clouded egg whites with days
passing by like fog feathers.

I trip over old experiences and expressions,
try hard to suppress them or revisit them;
I'm a fool in my damned recollections,
not knowing what to keep and what to toss out.

But the dreams flow like white flour and deceive me
till they capture the nightmare of the past —
images wrapped up in a black blanket —
and wake me in front of my psychiatrist.

It is at times like these I know not where I walk
or venture. I trip over my piety and spill my coffee cup.
I seek sanctuary in the commonplace of my life.

It is here the days pass and the years slip like ice cubes;
solid footing is a struggle in the socks of depression.
I am old frustrated thought,
passing by like fog feathers.

Michael Lee Johnson is a poet and freelance writer in Itasca, Illinois. His new poetry chapbook with pictures From Which Place the Morning Rises and The Lost American: From Exile to Freedom are available at: http://stores.lulu.com/promomanusa. Johnson has been published in 22 countries and is the editor/publisher of four poetry sites. All of Michael Lee Johnson's poetry books are now available on Amazon.com: http://www.amazon.com.