Big Head Ed

This week, on the day you took yourself out of this world, I spoke of the the evening I was hanging out at 69 Main Street New Paltz and you asked me what kind of woman I was. I didn’t know how to answer. You came at me with a sharp knife and I just sat there. You nodded your head in confirmation saying, “You are a woman that doesn’t react.”

Today,  I read from a friend you took your life.  I guess I needed to go back to that cut throat, bedeviled moment with you that seemed so calm and small, but so poignant in my life.

© -Sonja J. Johnston 29-May-2014 for Ed Buchanan (2-18-57-5-27-14)

A Model Life

Standing here at the baggage claim
waiting for someone else's dirty laundry.
Trailing a lost suit on the platform
as the skyway transforms.

I try to lift off the heavy baggage,
tightly sealed with no keys
under watch of security dogs and
air that smells of rubbing alcohol.
They are too heavy to lift.

Now, I find myself back at the staging area
picking up pieces of light
that somehow shattered under pressure.
Vivid colors and several healings that
must have dissipated in the mist.

I am breathing now from the clouds
and sending up smoke signals.
Sage-ing and engaging
Sending off that baggage to the doors
behind the doors for someone else to mind.

© -Sonja J. Johnston 12-May-2014

Vanishing Cream

Vanishing cream
spread on thick
gives me chills;
drives me hot.

Life is finding you're gone;
fighting for air,
suction inhaling
between the scenes
and flickering.

Queen in the keyholes
with white gloves
points a finger.

The castle moves forward
and back.

My sanctuary is lost.
I am left shaking this
crackerjack box.

© May 5 2014 -Sonja J. Johnston

The Dance Unbroken

Hanging on the thought that you are gone.
and  humming the bit of you with me.

I was biding my own
when you walked right up to me.

Stared right into me
and had me memorize
without pen or ink.

Persuading me with your mental dance
Entranced in the evening air.


With all said and done 
I was happy the day was won.


Through all the facts you had shown
and honesty freely spoken;
the letters on the window open
to all that remains.

Stated frankly with precision 
here is the time and place in
which we stand.

Mirrored to you,
Mirrored to me.

Waltzing the Wood
Playing the dance in full
the heart having spoken.

Pushing through the commotion
of this insane forefront
a vision was being documented.

We stole away from the world
driven by journeys of
divine will.


© 2011 Sonja J. Johnston