Michael Lee Johnson

Michael Lee Johnson is a freelance writer and poet, who has had over 240 poems published in over 110 journals and online publications. He is a member of Poets & Writers, Inc and Directory of American Poets & Fictions Writers: pw.org/directory. He has been published in the United States, Canada, New Zealand, Australia, Nigeria, India, and the United Kingdom. The Lost American is about one man’s journey into exile over the Vietnam War many years ago, his struggle, his survival, his road to recovery and strength manifesting itself through his prose and poems. Mr. Michael Lee Johnson lives with his best friend, Nikki, the cat, and is content to be living in a small suburb of Chicago.


		next
	Dance of Tears, Chief Nobody (V5) by Michael Lee Johnson I’m old Indian chief storyplastered on white scattered sheets,Caucasian paper blowing in yesterday’s winds.
	Barely a Portrait, Images, Transitions by Michael Lee Johnson Barely a Portrait, Images, Transitions(Niles High School, Niles, Michigan) You will find her here blowing soap bubbles,chewing gum cigars, old time candy and toy as
	Classic 70's Chick (V2) by Michael Lee Johnson Classic 70\'s Chick (V2) Classic 70\'s chickscent of these timesgold digger want to be.

	Restless Hawk (V2) by Michael Lee Johnson Restless Hawk (V2)The angels of wings are always in flightbe the devil or archangel Michael.I\'m a hawk, I\'m a night owl nightbarroom flights, fighter,seeing eyes t
	Old Hens and Young Folks (V2) by Michael Lee Johnson Old Hens and Young Folks (V2) Why do old hens\' cry-
	Unknown Poet from Rue Montpelier by Michael Lee Johnson I warned you darts with advicestrong words tripping over emotionslike an imbecile-so you think you’re Leonard Cohen
	Young Couple - @ Heart Attack Greasy Grill by Michael Lee Johnson I was a little boy,tad hillbilly son,patterned then inpresent tense,
	South Chicago Night by Michael Lee Johnson Night is drifters,sugar rats, street walkers, pickpockets, pimps,insects, Lake Michigan perch,neon signs blinking half the bulbsburned out.
	Cracker Jack Box Poem by Michael Lee Johnson I don’t wear my pocket watch anymoreit reminds me of my age, 73, soon more,outdated gadget, time hanging wheremoving parts below don’t belong nor work anymore.I don
	Turnip in the Still by Michael Lee Johnson Turnip in the Still In shadow wooden structures
		next