|I am a chalkboard computer brain.
I have updated drawn raw
images even the classroom
students cannot see, hear, nor understand.
They sit quietly in Disneyland
wondering about my eccentricities
I capture their stillness, and then I speak.
I am the professor, special agent of government
dream tracer of crossroad puzzles.
Photographic memory in private rooms,
did I hear a critic, erase
destroy dissociate thoughts.
I walk out unsteady in disbelief.
Is there a shadow of storybooks following me?
They call me a genius; I know who I am.
I spend nights in formula construction
drawing full color images of my brain,
percentages of gray matter lost.
I stick my ego to the bird eagle of the sky.
When on a high on an airplane, self-love,
full bloom, I keep my enemies at bay.
I shelter the skeletons of thought.
I trust Jesus because His image is stable,
every group I have ever known says "The Lord's Prayer."
Even then, new members leave, disappear, I hear what they said.
I had an MRI to trace all my youthful abuses.
There were no images there but voices I remember.
I cast their shadows, audio, visual for show, in the background.
In time, they quiet their voices. I walk beyond their images.
I pass on, they still screenplay.
You have to stretch lean, refer to sanity,
drink Asian tea, smooth out, limejuice, hallucinated sounds
before that stage, I took that Nobel prize,
even before, I forgave you.
Michael Lee Johnson lived in Canada for 10 years during the Vietnam
era. He is the author of The Lost American: From Exile to Freedom, and
several chapbooks of poetry, including From Which Place the Morning
Rises, and Chicago Poems. He edits nine poetry sites and has been
published in hundreds of small press magazines in 27 countries.
by Michael Lee Johnson
|Devoted to John Nash (1928-2015),
subject of the film, "A Beautiful Mind"
|Michael Lee Johnson