Saturday, October 1, 2016

Cut Through Thickness (V2)/Michael Lee Johnson

I angle at your youth and cross my eyes to see reality of time passed.
I cut through thickness of you retina, thin splinters, raw oak from the North,
Cypress trees, bending, rebel in Southern ways.
My present and past tenses are confused with feelings.
I cross the border of knowing you and forced to retreat.
I am seasoning of salt, pepper, and sugar in your veins.
I am daddy tenderness long time gone memories, graveyard, and suppressed images.
I squeeze scars, raw pimples, Clearasil, alcohol masking, blend in hate cosmetics.
Jesus is a forgiving hallo symbol hanging over a cross.
I hang alligator skins on the shells of Saturn and Apollo.
I lift the Vertical Assembly Building over a trailer sky.
I launch pad of love, a missile, old time arrow direct to hearts.
Every time I feel like crying, Bob Dylan, ages, angels with a handful of tears.

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