In the Sun, They All-Pass, poetry by Michael Lee Johnson at Spillwords.com

In the Sun, They All-Pass

In the Sun, They All-Pass

written by: Michael Lee Johnson

 

In the bright sun in the early morning
Gordon Lightfoot sings.
When everything comes back,
to shadow thin, thunderclaps—
and drips of rain.
The coffee pot is perking again.
Even though Gordon has passed.
I experience a mix of life.
A blender of the plurality of singulars
mounting movie moving frames
all returning to memory and mind.
The echoes of insanity, a whisper
schizophrenic, Poe’s haunting verses.
The romances of Leonard Cohen
are hidden in foreign hotel rooms,
lost keys, forgotten scenarios
and forgotten places.
All silence skedaddles
away from death stolen
those leftover tears of a lifetime—
now expired on earth—
seek through
pain abstains.

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