News and Moon Blues

PO

Ps

The Rapids Are Coming In Force

Rapids

MEXICAN HOT TOMATO

The Rapids are coming in force

Tearing through the brontal flobe

Slipping and throughout the evening the coasts of far

And the coasts of near

What coast will this be my fingernail

Looking just right down the tip of the finger

The nail

Needs to be trimmed or it has

Significance with the crucifix

The nail at the end of my toes

They keep growing through time

I find that I clip them off into the garden

I can frown at the wonderment of it

Thinking that my toe and finger nails

Are decomposing into the basil and tulips

My gaze goes out the window

There is no one there tonight

Spirits and shadows

They come around on these streets

Gathering at the corners

Especially now that it is heating up

Around town

I sped a look at the tallest tree on the street

The bodega guys have been watering that

Tree with the grease from the days grilling

Tree greased up for summer

I guess it does not bother me two much

I try and let it swoon over my pattern

As though the tree loves to soak in the

Bacon ham Swiss-chi-egg bun oil

These blues can only go round and round

Take that cheese frown

LONELY WILL NOT BE THE WAY

Not

Not

Knot not the not

Not

A weave come in a bounce

One of those wind blown bounces

Where the bow tie of a sweet dames

Blouse flourishes

Like the petals of a tulip getting ripped

Off in a hurricane

This hurricane was a vision of smiles

I saw it a big curl

Swooping like six over grown ravens in an

Orgy

Hovering above the shoulders and sailing

The breath of god

Yes

The yes

The yes

Knot yes

Yes the big yes

Knot

Eyelashes as humming wings

Revved up for that night of getting that

Sucking and puffing up that boisterous

Chest made of sand dunes and

1987 setting suns

In the moonless morning Brooklyn too

There sat a great bunch of ants

Without a hill

Ants with white wings-swift see through

Wings

Attached like sockets

Pistons on a buck-stallion wild on

Plains

These winged ants grew by the

Numbers overwhelming and started to swarm

A flock of a storm swooping up a

The sweet breeze curl

Fluffed up in a stationary hurricane

The winged bastards few and crawled over each

Other in a clamoring confused mob

They came through cracks in the floor

I yelled out

WE NEED A FLOOR MAT

The elastic flock and scratched bite come from

Places only dust could fit through

I hollered

WE NEED A CARPET

They started to bite

And did not stop

Instead of dust building up on old books

And wood figures

It was white winged ants

Sinking their teeth and clampers into

Any flesh that stood or lay

THE MOMENTS WIDE

Split ache

When all I can do is zip up and stay

When all I can do is leather up and soul

When all I can do is blink my eyes

When all I can do is hold out my arms

When all I can do is turn up the volume

When all I can do is ride into the rain

When all I can do is gaze into the sea

Of your eyes

Celebrate

When all I can do is run up and down

Imagine the wild weeds crawling up

The old fence pealing with rust

Liquid heat and turning pumps

These leafy green smooth bottom weeds

Plop out pollen that can be sucked in

By the cat

All the while I know not

The diamonds of filth

In time I will release some large breath

That wobbles the flight of eagles

FAT TOWN

The bar serves up trophies

Out chasing until the make-up

Runs

My hands find the soft meadow

Of curves and machine gun thighs

While telling stories of wars I have never seen

Shutting down the soul

And sucking the heart right off the bone

From the Bronx

From Japan

From across the street

She was old

She was young

She had five children

She did not want any

She wanted the shine

She could not decide

She had to many

The rich man will not give up his coat

With a whistled complement to the

Beast in the coat

With nothing at this joint but

Over crowded tacos

Yet your magic words will unlock

The door

I have created a monster

I have sounded the horn

I have shoveled my teeth into my own flesh

I have cursed the wretched

HOT CHOCOLATE

There was garbage stuck in the

Free magazine dispenser

Squished between snow and smeared ink

Tear into some other part of this world to

Feel the same

If I stop twisting

If I stop sighing

If I stop my running

Bones just turn to dirt

Yet

Holy shit

That happens anyways

Go

Stellar bliss

It is dirty here

Between the stories

Real dirty

Some sort of weird headspace

Where the vast universe closes in

And it is dogs

Just pissing everywhere

The hope of how loud it is in space

Wicked loud

How loud it is in the ocean

And how loud the train that is going

Somewhere without my skin sack of bones

Going on by

To the consciousness of teeth and

Blind eyes that bulge

Swirling swears so loud on a Sunday morning

That it makes pretty white girls cringe

RH

Rain it eats my bike

Rain it makes hard green trunks grow

Through the rust and soil

MOTORCYCLE

Dark deserts with shadow bones

Dancing along

Turning out the shooting stars

One after another and one more

For the blind man

My greatest fate will be describing the

Vibration that comes with a shooting star

Over old best friend beach in Massachusetts

Spinning a big catch of kisses

Twirling out a meteorite that will

Pummel the

Flesh to the melting point

FULLLY CLOTHED IN A FIT

It all turned out like this

Beautiful

Or

Falling over and getting up

Yes oh yes and wake

Women falling over

Spilling their lips

The drinks kept coming

With the turn of the hours

They kept pouring down

Like a shadow in fast motion

As the coming dawn

Saints take to the streets with

Whiskey and sunglasses

They take to the hills

The rise of morning and my blood

Is murk

WEIRD EAR

I heard something weird in my ear

So I leaned harder into it

Into the soup of your whisper

THIRTEEN DAYS BEFORE CHRISTMAS

The storm can take the spirits

The storm can close ones eyes to the

Outside world

Shut ones eyes and it can be a treacherous

Dinner alone in memory of

Wandered off about exhaustion

Then I had a dream

My Road Dog and myself

Tromping around redneck compounds

With motorbikes and muscle cars

Waiting in aloof for

Rust rain

Or to be

Drag raced with the neighbor

Me

Road Dog and myself

Lurked around the yards

The compounds

The rednecks went along watching

Television and throwing

Bones to the hounds

Road Dog and myself

Found a motorbike that opened our eyes

I wanted to check it out myself so we stealth

Over across the grown yard

A hound came after us

I knew the rednecks would be cocking there

Guns

With all the beautiful machines laying around

We booked it out of there

Bolts of bones

All the brush and bush was overgrown

I made it 50 yards out into the overgrow

Then all of a sudden a bush

Grabbed my bones and I

Fell in motion

A face full in front of where my hands lay

A snarling alligator

Split seconds then he had my arm

Bone in his mouth

I made it to my feet

Screaming and thrashing

With this beast lock jawed to my

Arm bone I could feel the crunch

And the mush

I screamed

Road Dog was in the distance

I took out my pocketknife

Took a large swipe

Right behind the gators

Spine to skull spot

With a slash swoop

His body left his head

Limp

Dead

I unlocked his jaw from my

Arm bone

Trophy

Grandpa was on the phone

I am glad you cut the gators head off

I saved the alligators head

The rednecks no longer cared

And went back to the television

Their hounds got into other distractions

THE BIG PICTURE

Space

To fill with a mess

Tea made after tea made

Just ought to grow a tree of tea

In certain climates

Dead winter New York

The ground freezes

The dog shit is frozen

The spit freezes

With all imperfections the parks close

All the telephones are without wire

And there is love

Exist

Clementine and sickness making out

Imperfections whilst not picking the scabs

This reality with the choices of tea

Focus on the prick

The cacti with its stationary

Yet

My feet can carry my belly to the thorn

Only the tornado can take the

Truck and the splinters

We can

We

I can drive the truck

What I figured out

While cursing the cold

But I was going to get ice cream

The knife really has been dull

For the past twenty years

Yet it looks great and I

Carry it and it opens boxes up on

Boxes of boots

Oh the clementine

Pounds of them

SOLSTACE

S

T

A

Y

We fell through tremendous

Train stations

Filled with muck

A rainy day river rushing across

Electric brown eyes

I pull at the maddening dream

It was breakfast in bed of the

Never tomorrow

She said we could walk out together

But I am going this way and

You are going that way

We fell hard through a hill in Boston

I do not walk with a cane but

I try to leave my tent at every stop

I walk with sharp limps and flowing kites

Someday I will eat everyday in bed

Your radical smile will be the only thing

Left when I become a stem of thorns

My heart pumped out lost umbrellas

Clouds let loose

Their spears and I dodged

Until I was hit by your lips

Best

I am leaving paradise to go to a

Better paradise

Across the river

So I went under and I got there

Right in a pressure cooker

With old teeth rotted away in

Vintage books

Editions lost by the

Happiest librarian ever

Ever

Kicking in your dreams

-Endless kicks-

We booted up

Her hair like waves

Coming to the beach

We took to the island

Sat in a basement and handled

The rifles

Working the mag and working the mag

And lining the sight

Tiger has a good eye

They told you how to hold freedom

One desert wind will present the echo

Shadow and Echo

Hand and Hand

Her smile flickered like a star-

A milky star

Coordinates

Some how the carnival smells like fun

Grim fun all wintery-mist

Dark rise of a skeleton sun

Robbed of glory from a wild battle

The others went off into the

Sickness of the babe

How long must this prolong the

Desire

Of circuits buzzing and switching

Lights and caravans of your yesterdays

I do not like to eat in the subway

The murk

The cloud which skulls underground

Puddles and crumbs and not hotness or

Cakes

Unless my dear comrades

Unless we bring the damn cake

Then I look to the front past the dull

And there next to some high heals

Cake

The damn cake sits dripping

Brushing on some make up

Chanel makeup

Commander

Prison Envelopes

Are really just doodles during the day

Decorated with a since of

Demanding facial and eternal self

Look at all that leather

About to pounce onto the feet

Doodles-Right at my fingertips are

Mad pens and tiny sheets of paper

And a computer

And a stack of paper bags

And tiny speakers

And it is on shuffle

And

The butter

The puddles

Its angelic weekend of fury

Also means

I am eating candy bars for days and

All day long

She said

We will always be a little bit shitty

Taking the sobs and throwing them

In the wash

My friends Kyle and Simon were

Still house partying in

Los Angeles

I was here this morning

Wearing a sweat-suit and gearing up my

Laundry breakfast

I tried to look deeper

Work Is

All about the money

Making it

Holy great

Getting a gig

That is enjoyable

And presenting peace to the hood

My goodness digging deep in

Piling up my heart and booting up

Riding out old desert dreams

Of dry heat

Burning and kicking up in Snoqualmie

We sucked each other

I sloshed bones thick

With blizzard muck-

I turned out the moon

October Fancy

Old pirate lurking around the art show

Laugh you good

Barkeep stares at the phone

Till the glasses go

Clank to empty

Then the pizza scramble

The lost youth of every major holiday

Phone-buzz and rotted television

Because there aint no band

Unattained speakers

But I can look

Choking

From the mind of the spinning

Bar across town but first this one

Under the bridge then

Near the BQE puddle of lust

It is your old meat loaf

S

T

A

R

SHIPS

Starships are grounded

Smoothies from hell

What to do from screaming birth

Injected our howls into

Horns of brass and animals

They have written love over all the walls

Chinese delivery in the blizzard is a

Chant of the gods

It Is

It’s the most romantic story of all

Happened from separate hometowns

From opposite states

Then one October night in Cambridge

Massachusetts

The girl that turned into a cacti-

Slowly over time

In the desert

Shh Owls

Open heartedness

The darkness birthed only

Angelic waves

Of your vibrations

A twisted and thorn-road

But it is freedom and it is

A wobbly dance and

Wet basement in Brooklyn

Where I am hustling boots and shoes

For a buck

-A buck to eat

To have an apartment

Wine

And whiskey and a wild dance

With the kids swamping the subway for

A trip to lust

Legs and asses and they are reaching

And grabbing for leather

Laid Out For The Buzzards

Long Island like a grill

Miles of fleshy sand wobblers

Off to the woods to carve out

A self-portrait among the bark and moss

Trans versing the valley road

At riveting speeds

Be refreshed

You say baby

You say I am ok

I watch as the crooked take to the streets

Cash is thrown from the upstairs windows

In video game bags

Its dark and lies and shadows and

The bikers bark and mufflers crack

Nobody looks to long

Once a screaming baby

Played in that window

Now its money thrown down

Juice

F ull

Flesh

Fly by

I stood on the front porch in the hometown

Counting the lightning bolts

Trying to catch them in my teeth

A distant ballad of thunder

While others in the hometown

Watched their fire

Crowded in the wind

Desire of go

Go

Go

And just throwing it at a glass

Makes you more or less

Paper Scotch

The whiskey burns right though

Paper cups

Burning right through the was and cups

Staring while

Some sad song is played

Letting the rot eat out all the women

Kids run around looking for change-

And I just want

Some midnight pie

Ride hard

Little ones on their pops

Wings across the avenue

Their flashlights against the pump

Ride hard

Hood to hood

Lost in the digital flowers

Avocado Mad-head

The subtle way

Boot up Brooklyn

Freckle on the bottom of the foot-foot

Flash in the dark

Swiftly quiet from

Arrival to arrival

The camera broke in front

Of all the girls

They shivered back to the bar

Then I was ripped from

The parking lot

By the show-time countdown

When I am back-gone

Head first with no specials coming

No lonely specials

Just stained ships

Burned ropes which

Were attached to the

Escape ships

My eyes fell hard

I jolted and there

From out a scud window

The steadfastness of

East West and whirling like

A loaf of bread on wheels

Screaming seeds hollering in delight

Pop

Silence-no one was screaming

Was I awake or

Thrown down a mad dash to freedom

As in the empty parking lot

Wedge curbs

Your sweet curve

Sleeping-chaffed to oblivion

Dust blown from Nazareth

Split out of Bethlehem

Like a madman

I could feel my socks

Misty Together Eyes

Adjusted in red

Leg over leg over

Sweet cheek

Forehead to the board

To feel the wood-grain

Turn to mutt

Thunderous memory

Cracked and splintered

By zapping past the tree line

My eyes throbbed-I enjoyed the motion

Fast so fast

Thunderous-soar-radio-Digital-sonic-

Waves of throbbed

Thunderous-seeker-

Face to the sky-spit

D

Rain

Pot P

From you lips

Quieted storms-quiet stir behind the

Ribcage

I was having a feeling

Must be love

I know because

It is voltage coming

Justin Johnson

Written over a period of year

2010-2011

The Rapids Are Coming In Force