Trump Drives On Deep Into Twitter
(Watermelon 1) (of a 12 Watermelon poem)
–for Richard Brautigan, on his birthday
January 30th, 2019, another irritable-balls-syndrome’d year
inside which Brautigan’s still dead
and the entire goddamn world has tossed itself
into the paper mache pit
where memories thumb rides with their elbows
and end up walking
until their shoes conk out
I catch my breath in old sci fi novels
and writing anything in this world I’ve ever lost
into some sort of relevant metaphor
for my dick
I’ve got a thing for 1970’s control panels
in real life
on TV
in my pants
These 2019 modern day electronics do nothing
but make feeling bad about everything: easier
This morning I’m convinced that everything loops
selfi-sticks and cell phones killed the dinosaurs
and after that they went away for a bunch of millions of years
waiting out evolution
for their next chance to pounce
Is love in the air?
Is love not in the air?
What is air?
Once upon now dead days,
His library card was sleeping
with her entire poetry section
Tonight his library card
has given up on sleeping
and stays up forever
making haiku’s out
of all of its late fees and
watching the Bionic
Woman all over again
Multiverse Johnson 