poetry by j matthew waters

By art itself

I’m not too concerned
if I don’t hear from you again
you see I have you locked
in this utopia
complete with a flower garden
apple tree & snake
white sands nearby & heavenly
clouds up above

You’re not the only one
to have it made there alive
the rest of us recirculating the works
filling stadiums with zealots
and unlocking
more & more mysteries
some by way of science
but more often than not by art

january two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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