poetry by j matthew waters

Once in San Antone

Along the riverwalk my soul took turns
it had never taken before. The landscape
of skin and fowl and vegetation introduced
a program of thoughts of unfamiliarity
that encouraged oral and penless poetry.

The language inspired Latino rhythms,
challenged me to finds words similar
to cerveza and como se dice. And, as my
tennis-shoed feet encountered both concrete
and water, I almost believed I had lived
here before with some sort of importance.

I saw the Alamo but did not enter–
it was aboveground and therefore off limits.
No matter what the reason, I stayed below
and pretended to exist beyond belief.

nineteen ninety-nine
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Single Post Navigation

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: