Moon Sleep
I stick
my hand
out toward
the sea
roll out my palm
I offer a plank,
a trail for you.
Follow out into the water
& the salty stars.
When you stretch out
& give your heart
to the final moment
to the glass night sky,
draw me in
sketch my face
on the edge
of the moon-
sad & lonely
over ages of moon
sleep.
Boat In A Pond
Boat in a pond
abandoned
without oars
tied to a steel post
floats on top
of an artist palette,
rocks sideways with
wind,
edges slightly
west,
the sun sets.
IN DECEMBER
In December Miami sun
stands out on the southern
tip of Florida like a full-
blossomed orange,
wind torn sunshine eats away
at those Florida skies.
Spanish accents echo through
Caribbean Boulevard loud
like an old town crier
misplaced in a metro suburb.
Off the east coast 90 miles,
westward winds carry inward
the foreign sounds lifting off
Castro's larynx,
and the faint smell of an
old musty Cuban cigar
touches the sand and the shoreline. |
| Michael Lee Johnson lives in Chicago,
IL. after spending 10 years in Edmonton, Alberta Canada during the
Viet Nam era. He is a freelance writer
and poet. He is heavy influenced by Carl Sandburg, Robert Frost, &
William Carlos Williams, Leonard Cohen. He is a member of Poets &
Writers, Inc;
Directory of American Poets & Fictions Writers |