by Michael Lee Johnson
Edith, in this nursing home
blinded with macular degeneration,
I come to you with your blurry
eyes, crystal sharp mind,
your countenance of grace−
as yesterday's winds
I have chosen to consume you
and take you away.
"Oh, where did Jesus disappear
to?", she murmured,
over and over again,
in a low voice
dripping words
like a leaking faucet:
"Oh, there He is my
Angel of the coming."
*Michael's website:
http://poetryman.mysite.com/
January 12, 2009
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January
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- Untitled #92
- A WOMAN GOES INTO THE CEMETERY
- The Other Day
- The Shits
- an ex girlfriend's grandfather
- Sitting at home with Hercules
- Ken who had bad lungs and a dodgy ticker
- INFILTRATION
- On Seeing Harmony Korine in the Hilltop Diner On U...
- TENTACLES, LEAVES
- Dead season
- THE INNOCENCE I'VE KNOWN
- IN VENICE, THAT NOVEMBER AND DECEMBER
- Famous
- a maniac barely subdued.
- the stuff of legends.
- EVEN THERE
- Wednesday
- waiting
- elvis
- IN SPITE OF HIS DANGLING PRONOUN
- one day you'll pack yr organs in a valise & vacate
- drunk email to stacy at 3:14 a.m.
- Rumspringa*
- pillow humping
- CAT CALLAHAN
- Mother, Edith, at 98
- long sad lonesome
- Ocotillo*
- marcy
- flowers for everyone
- { IN RESPONSE TO ARLINGTON... }
- { 3 SHORT-STACKS TO PASS A SAD HOUR }
- Sometimes it's a pleasure
- I TOLD YOU HOW IT WOULD GO
- FLIGHT RISK
- NOT QUITE SPRING
- The Alley
- Caged Heat
- SEX THROUGH MY EYEBALL
- SPIRITUAL BRIDE
- DEAD PETS
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2 comments:
I enjoy this man's poetry. I,ve seen him in many places on the net. Great imagery.
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