it was mother’s day
and graduation
the weather was awesome
sunshine & a few fluffy clouds
some with heart-shaped holes in them
—a cool wind out of the northwest
and if you’re stuck inside
trying to write poetry
you’re probably wasting your time
may two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
reality is a bit overrated
what with its wars
and all the pretending
that goes along with it
various men sporting colors
not making much sense
in this day and age—
red & yellow & orange
may two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I was thinking about the clock
how he said it was made in Korea
that he couldn’t read
the instructions that came with it
Over time he learned
how to make it work properly
It was a handsome clock
featuring day & time
sunrise & sunset
but what stood out to me
was how he said it wasn’t smart
One day it lay on the couch
in the living room
lifeless & undisturbed
somewhat like a stillborn baby
I remember him distinctly shouting
‘don’t touch it’
It’s just resting he went on to say
I couldn’t muster the strength
to place it back on the wall
And so in the morning
we got it back on the wall
back hanging on the set screw
day & time
sunrise & sunset
back to where it should be
may two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
we live in a vacuum
the suction excruciatingly slow
you don’t ever notice
at least not when you’re alive
and in good health
it’s like a reverse form of gravity
picking away at the skin
eventually bone
it’s how a stone’s face
reinvents itself time & again
what’s lost is unlikely lost
simply misplaced
like a memory or birthday wish
tugging on your hemline
temporarily elusive
may two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
they say the numbers look good
so off they go
shipped in the middle of the night
when the old numbers go out
new ones come in
and with a little tweaking
or some massaging
or altogether reworked
they too will look good
and off they go
shipped in the middle of the night
sometimes the numbers don’t work out
the way they should
and the outcome manifests itself
into minor or major accidents
an occasional total death & destruction
and when the latter is the case
the number crunchers will be handcuffed
and taken away
each one replaced by something shiny & new
may two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
where do we go
once time stands still
like a flamingo preening
in shallow water
lost in endless thought
behold the eternal flame
trapped inside a frozen cave
indistinguishable from time
secluded like a dream
if only you could find
the formulaic language
of putting time in a nutshell
buried in the spring
by the keeper of the stars
may two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
she asked what I had
done all day
this after doing god knows what
from nine to five
for a second I thought it was
a trick question
but I quickly regrouped
and said I’d spent most of the day
watching the war in real time
in my mind
the better question might be
what’s that sweet smell
you got going on in the kitchen
may two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
an early evening
aircraft flying overhead
one after the other
—even the cat taking notice
letting out
a long sigh of relief
safe behind the sectional
may two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
Heaven is comfort, but it’s still not living.
― Alice Sebold, The Lovely Bones
I was working on a lullaby
right around midnight
searching for words that rhyme with
worms & undercover
They say the funnel cloud
sounds like a fast approaching locomotive
but it’s nothing more than a mere dream
when a child is fast asleep
If you ever tore anything to pieces
with your own bare hands
you might have an appreciation for
the reality of true brute force
may two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
a philosopher friend
once told me
try to look at this way
when the dream becomes reality
death is no longer an option
he was pretty stoned
at the time
so i didn’t want to ruin his buzz
yet the more I thought about it
the less I was concerned
about dying
may two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I cut back the rose bushes
branches & stems & canes
right down to the green
It is early April & cold
a slight wind bemoaning change
—& just like in a recurring dream
a set of eyes (or maybe two)
watching
my every move
I should be wearing gloves
but I never do
my hands with an occasional puncture
blood beading & oozing here & there—
their eyes focused on the color scarlet
I imagine they are imagining
what it would taste like
to lick my wounds
I try to guess what animal
the eyes belong to
but they are shadowless
& possess no language
how I know they are there
remains a mystery to me
but a movement of light in my peripheral
has me looking inward
may two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
where do you suppose they go
all the good ones
is there a special place in time
nobody’s told us about
see here
I didn’t mean nothing by it
the candle went out
all on its own
and when I tried to bring it back to life
with a wink & a snap
well that was it
nothing doing
we talked for hours about it in the dark
every night the lights go out
and every morning
you wake up a new woman
somehow slightly different
like a daffodil
looking brighter
unconcerned about the law
of diminishing returns
as if there’s nothing to worry about
may two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
The capital city is sinking
but there’s no place left to run
The entire world is on lockdown
though tickets to Mars
are selling for a dime a dozen
If digressing to an archipelago
is on your mind
I may have to ask you
exactly in which dimension
april two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
do you see it there
a foreigner in the night sky
a light never before seen
solid & unblinking
perhaps a child of mars or venus
or a runaway satellite
hungry for attention
& inching closer
with each lunar cycle
until one night suddenly
completely out of the picture
april two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the neighbor put up a few signs
saying his boa constrictor
busted out of jail again
the sheriff deputized all the children
in a six block radius
saying do what it takes
to bring in the bastard
dead or alive
meanwhile
the neighbor was last spotted
in a fake mustache & beard
purchasing little white mice
at a nearby petco
these kinds of poems
never end well
& this one
doesn’t stand a chance in hell
april two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I wasn’t trained to shake it off
which may be why
my skin is inked in sin
Seeing people smile after
fucking up
what is that all about—
the devil or someone
just shaking it off
or perhaps something I can’t
wrap my head around
I keep looking
for enemies
but all I find are people
who look like me
especially the women
some of whom seemingly asking
haven’t we met before
april two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 