by 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.