By Michael Lee Johnson My life began with a skeleton with a smile and bubbling eyes in my garden of dandelions. Everything else fell off the edge, a jigsaw puzzle…

By Michael Lee Johnson Keyboard dancing, poet-writer, old bold, ribbons are worn out, type keys bent out of shape. 40 wpm, high school, Smith Corona 220 electric ultimately gave out,…

Michael Lee Johnson Wait until I have to say goodbye, don’t rush; I’m a philosophical professor facing my own death on my own time. It takes longer to rise to…

By Michael Lee Johnson Deep in my couch of magnetic dust, I am a bearded old man. I pull out my last bundle of memories beneath my pillow for review.…

By Michael Lee Johnson I’m the poetry man, understand? Dance, dance, dance to the crystals of night, healing crystals detox nightmares, night tremors. Death still comes in the shadow of…

By Michael Lee Johnson Like all thing’s life changes, its melodies fragment. It breaks pieces apart, then they drift, then shatter. The singers of songs love bars, naked bodies, consistencies,…

By Michael Lee Johnson Like a full-service gas station or postal service workers displaced, racing to Staples retail for employment against the rules of labor, poets are out of business…

Poets Die (V2) By Michael Lee Johnson Why do poets die; linger in youth addicted to death. They create culture but so crippled. They seldom harm except themselves— why not…

By Michael Lee Johnson Daddy wants to see a hummingbird. Ruby-throated hummingbird devil in feathers, Illinois baby come to me, challenge my feeder sip up, drain nectar, no straw needed.…

Juice Box Girl (After Midnight Moments) By Michael Lee Johnson I’m a juice box girl, squeeze me, play me like an accordion, box-shaped, but gagged edges. Breathe me inside out,…