brownies

by walter w johnson iii

my mom baked brownies every wednesday night she seemed to enjoy doing it and she was a nice person and thought we liked the brownies but all was not smooth sailing i apologize for using the term smooth sailing but i can not help it it is just my way dad ate the brownies but expressed a preference for peanut butter cookies and was slightly annoyed that mom did not indulge him in this my sister rose ate the brownies too but with expressed misgivings as it interfered with the weight loss program to which she dedicated her life more or less i apologize for using the term more or less but i can not help it it is just my way i ate the brownies myself they were not all that great but they were all right i guess and i am easy to get along with

favorite

by walter w johnson iii

everybody has a favorite thing but not every thing is a favorite thing most people have a favorite person but not every person is somebody’s favorite person human beings are lonely or so they tell us in people magazine and usa today and various government and think tank studies are you lonely? are you so lonely that you would welcome any person in the world as your friend? no? that is nothing to be ashamed of. not too many people would. if you could pick one person in the world to be friends to be friends with, who would it be? you don’t want to answer that? that is all right. oh, i see a hand raised. your mom - you would like to be friends with your mom? that is so sweet. if you do not mind my asking, are you friends with her now? oh, i see - i am so sorry. anybody else? one person in the world to be your friend, who might it be? nobody? all right, it is a pretty personal question. even more personal than asking if you have any friends at all now. that is enough about all of you. does anybody want to know who i want to be friends with? or what my favorite thing is? i see some hands. i guess i am in for it now.

head

by walter w johnson iii

i have a head and the head has a top in the top is a brain overflowing with slop i walk down the street people ask me my game they think something or other and i must think the same my arm has a hand and the hand makes a fist the fist holds a flower but i have never been kissed my leg has a foot on the foot is a shoe i walk in the rain but my heart is true i walk down the street people ask me my name i don’t know what to tell them ain’t that a shame

people

by walter w johnson iii

people say lots of things you do not know what they mean they are possessed by demons and surrounded by things unseen people see lots of things that other people do not is everything an illusion? it is just a thought people are nice except when they are mean sometimes the sky is blue sometimes the grass is green clouds appear in the sky and sometimes drift away other times the rain falls there is nothing else to say

you and me

by walter w johnson iii

the river flows to the sea just like you and me and when it turns around they will come out of the ground bye and bye others will come down from the sky they will get together and consider the weather like they did before in days of yore and when the stars burn we will return the moon will look down on the little town and the river flow to the sea just like you and me

fire escape

by walter w johnson iii

i was born on a fire escape above a garbage can my existence was clouded by a forensic whispering campaign of the martians who hated me because i told the truth about the commissioner but i did not care because i had all i needed in the perfect and eternal love of - here come the trucks now and the dogs and the spiders

a man, a tree, a dog

by walter w johnson iii

a man sat under a tree with an old yellow dog the tree looked at the sky rain fell from a cloud lightning flashed thunder laughed and the tree split in two the man sat under the northern half the dog sat under the southern half a traveler appeared he had a bag on his back he put the north half of the tree in the bag and walked on a second traveler appeared with a box under his arm he put the south half of the tree in the box and walked on the man and the dog were now exposed to the wind and rain the dog turned into a tree and the man sat under it a princess appeared riding a white dragon and asked the man have you seen my old yellow dog? but the man said ask the rain and the wind and the lightning the princess and the dragon rode on the man is still there talking to the tree and watching the world go by

tree sky cloud

by walter w johnson iii

a man sat under a tree because it was meant to be the sky was blue it was meant to be too a cloud appeared just as the man feared the cloud turned gray that was its way rain fell from the cloud and got loud lightning hit a branch which did not have a chance the man walked away with nothing to say the tree is there still on the side of the hill the rain returns periodically as the tree laughs idiotically a rock beside the tree smiles knowingly

2 poems

by walter w johnson iii

phone sometimes i feel so all alone i want to get on the telephone and call everybody i ever knew and tell them i am feeling blue but i do not know their number or whether they are in endless slumber or if they would answer my call or remember me at all this is how it ends with my phone my only friend it answers every question i ask and never tells me to take off my mask happy i try to write happy poems not just moans and groans but somehow they write themselves in increasingly mournful tones why is the universe so sad is it because it is fading away? maybe i will try to write my happy poem some other day

rigs in the night

by walter w johnson iii

the moon shines through the trees the stars look down on the highway the long dark highway and the big rigs the big rigs rolling carrying roast beef for arby’s sandwiches to indianapolis and buns for big macs to jacksonville florida and eggs for breakfast sandwiches for dunkin donuts to buffalo new york and bandaids and deodorant to cvs’s in dallas and chicken wings to popeyes in salt lake city and coffee grounds to winchell’s donuts in las vegas and stacks of people magazine to milwaukee and swanson’s tv dinners to butte montana and milky way candy bars to juneau alaska all these things to distribution centers lit up in the american night to be delivered in the morning to apartments and condos and gated communities and retritement homes all over this geat land you get the picture we are safe now never again to cross a mountain in a smowstorm or cling to a raft overturned on a raging river or get eaten by a bear or bitten by a rattlesnake or a stonefish or a wolverine but sometimes in the dead of night after a long day of bingewatching a new miniseries about the royal families of intergalactic empires or a new version of dracula or winnie the pooh or little women i lie down and close my eyes and think i can hear the big rigs the big rigs humming humming down the dark highways alone in the wind and rain

the tree

by walter w johnson iii

if the apple never falls from the tree if the bear never shakes the tree if the cat never chases the mouse if the dog never chases the cat if the elephant forgets if the frog never croaks at the princess if the gorilla never pounds his chest if the heart never breaks if i never conquer the world if the joker never gets a laugh if the king never saves his kingdom if the lion never roars if the moon is never lonesome if the nightingale never sings if the orange is never squeezed if the panther never pounces on the pilgrim if the queen never smiles in her quiet room if the rabbit never runs down the road if the saint is never lost in the forest if the turtle never sleeps in a hollow log if uncle harry never finishes his story if victory is never assured if the walrus never waves goodbye if expectation is never rewarded if youth is not served if the zebra loses his stripes if adam never finds eve what is to be believed? put a candle in the window to dispel the darkness everything will end unless it is saved forever

who

by walter w johnson iii

my aunt judy was a nice person but maybe not so nice as we thought my uncle jeffrey made millions selling high end cardboard except that it turned out he really didn’t my sister sally talked until she was eighteen about running away from home but she never even left town and married a guy who worked at the local gas station <> i never did understand what my dad did all day it was easy enough to know what my mom did when i was a child i had a little stuffed bear i never called it a teddy bear my mom used to tell people how much i loved it it was the cutest thing and i was the cutest thing one day we were driving over a bridge on our way to yellowstone national park and i threw the bear out the window into the river below who am i? who is anybody? how are you doing? i have not heard from you in a while

sincerity

by walter w johnson iii

all i ever wanted was to meet a sincere person who would accept me for who i am. * people write poems about trees and rocks and flowers and clouds and the sun and the moon and the sky and rivers and oceans but who really cares about any of that stuff? i just want to meet a sincere person. * i hated being a child and a teenager but i was afraid to grow up and have to find a job. i hate being alive but i am afraid to die. i guess a lot of people feel the same way. that is why i don’t understand why they are not nicer and more sincere. * a man looked out a window at a tree. it had been there the day before and the day before that and it was still there. he decided to make himself a piece of toast and put raspberry jelly on it. that man was me! * but even if i am, so what? it does not mean people can’t be nice to me. * why do people have to be so nasty? i just don’t get it. * a bird flew through the air. the sky was blue. then it landed in a tree. then it flew off again. a man walked down the street. he did not have any money. or any friends. nobody cared. a bug crawled across the sidewalk. the man with no friends did not even see it. did the bug see him? the man did not think about the bug because he did not even see it. did the bug think about him? did it think, i better hurry across this sidewalk before that monster steps on me? who is more alive, the man or the bug? who is more sincere?

sad

by walter w johnson iii

people are sad especially if their shoes are untied or their socks fall down and nobody likes them dogs are sad especially if they have no human to feed them and they have to make their own way are cats sad? kittens maybe, but full grown cats look mostly just bored or annoyed elephants are sad in circuses and zoos, but maybe not in the rolling savannas where they can knock down trees and run over people’s vegetable gardens hippos are never sad just sitting in the mud cars are not sad even if nobody drives them and they get covered in rust, they just take it on the bumper are mosquitoes and fleas sad? it is hard to tell, they are so small is all nature sad? is mother nature sad? they are not saying, are they? are aliens sad? we might find out if they ever get here