Michael Lee Johnson writes

I Regret Grinder, but, No Remorse

I have no regret, no grinder of remorse, nor memory of the dental chair.

I have no feeler of sins lost in sand dust with golden teeth, diamond over lay of lies.

Do not dance, play checkers, between the lines of memory-black/white.

I am a sinner wild with elbow muscle, flex right to left.

Dental floss is my Jesus, purple robe, violent-victim.

The cheeks of God whisper fools of toy tot decay, hanger on a cross-victim.

I was an outcast of hell with flames hanging from my behind.

What age of flowers is a whisper into the colors, fool enamel solid white.

I wild elbows flex from right to left, dental floss violent-victim.

I am owner of the cheeks of sunken bones.

What left is decay open space, mouth, tongue, cavities.

Christ never liked the sound of a drill, only aging of flowers, whispers from toy toots.

Lost in the blur of the blue heron I toss my gambling cards, fold.

Back to the farm fields forever and the sounds of wheat in the wind.

Jesus is the stop point, remorse, joy, where the sounds end.

I am an abstract artist, setting black outline in a dental chair,

false teeth pending white, waiting for second coming.

 

 Porcelain tooth -- Nasser Shademan