by Michael Lee Johnson | May 24, 2009 | Poetry
Gingerbread lady, no sugar or cinnamon spice; years ago arthritis and senility took their toll. Crippled mind moves in then out, like an old sexual adventure blurred in an imagination of fingertip thoughts. Who in hell remembers the characters? There was George, her...
by Michael Lee Johnson | May 24, 2009 | Poetry
A Métis Indian lady, drunk, hands blanketed over as in prayer, over a large brown fruit basket naked of fruit, no vine, no vineyard inside−approaches the Edmonton, Alberta adoption agency. There are only spirit gods inside her empty purse. Inside, an infant,...
by Michael Lee Johnson | May 24, 2009 | Poetry
Crippled with arthritis and Alzheimer’s, in a dark rented room, Charley plays melancholic melodies on a dust filled harmonica he found abandoned on a playground of sand years ago by a handful of children playing on monkey bars. He now goes to the bathroom on...
by Michael Lee Johnson | May 24, 2009 | Poetry
Soft nursing 5 solid minutes of purr paws paddling like a kayak competitor against ripples of my 60 year old river rib cage− I feel like a nursing mother but I’m male and I have no nipples. Sometimes I feel afloat. Nikki is a little black skunk, kitten, suckles...
by Michael Lee Johnson | May 24, 2009 | Poetry
Rebecca fantasized that life was a lottery ticket or a pull of a lever, that one of the bunch in her pocket was a winner or the slots were a redeemer; but life itself was not real that was strictly for the mentally insane at the Elgin Mental Institution. She gambled...
