jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the category “Dreams”

catching up with the midnight rider


I miss everything reckless
and I’m bound and determined
to make another run at it
barreling down river road
giving chase to the current

most times it’s impossible
to catch the leader (of the pack)
let alone decipher exactly
who put what in motion

even without all the facts
I’m prepared to move on
singing a song I’ve not forgotten
when once upon a time
I dreamed I was a little girl



march two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

    a higher level


    it started from no single event
    like global warming did

    or the demise of a species

    first he borrowed some
    free time and stuffed it into
    an ornate box

    lined with red velvet
    it was furnished with a
    red-cushioned chair

    a painting
    unbeknownst to none
    hung from one of the walls

    but he kept his eyes closed
    sinking into the chair
    barely breathing

    eventually the air collapsed upon
    itself

    until inside the box was nothing
    but a passing thought



    february two thousand seventeen
    copyright j matthew waters
    all rights reserved

    in pursuit of peace


    the bounty on my head
    keeps going up
    or so I’ve heard from the
    monotonous talking heads
    streaming in the air

    I’m feeling much better
    since crossing the mississippi
    heading east by northeast
    toward an unknown place
    where sanctuaries still exist

    secret agent men
    keep hunting me in my sleep
    but I manage to elude them
    by rolling over into
    a new form of reality

    I know every inch of concrete
    and railway between
    this world and the next
    where I am destined to settle
    into indescribable peace



    february two thousand seventeen
    copyright j matthew waters
    all rights reserved

    it’s gonna snow sometime soon


    it’s early february
    but the calendar has yet to turn

    there’s no snow on the ground
    but it’s cold as hell
    people dressed for spring and shivering
    whiskey beginning to wear off
    hands shaking for another shot

    the sun never shined in january
    it was a record year

    without the sun I can’t dream (she used to say)

    I get up earlier and earlier every day
    thinking I might catch the sun somehow

    but you live in the valley (she says)

    oh yes I keep forgetting

    there’s no whiskey in the cupboard
    it disappeared that wintry night
    they took away my baby

    when’s it going to snow again (she says)



    february two thousand seventeen
    copyright j matthew waters
    all rights reserved

    the number inside the number


    I chased this little ball around
    for a few hours
    maybe days
    and it never really dawned on me
    that I should be doing anything else

    I daydreamed in this place
    with no time on the walls
    with no time outside the many windows
    where hills turned into a thin line
    blending greens into blues into reds

    I used to think that rainbows
    have no end
    but it was obvious as I wandered
    from room to room
    my thinking had been backward

    Every day I tore off a new number
    from a pad glued to the wall
    and each day the number was the same
    or at least I used to always
    think that was the case

    you got it all wrong
    someone said from afar
    it’s not the number that counts
    but the number inside the number
    that is if you can figure it out

    And so I pondered the idea
    and eventually solved the number
    inside the number
    but once I did I was taken away
    to a smaller place without time



    january two thousand seventeen
    copyright j matthew waters
    all rights reserved

    kansas city blues


    sky big and cloudless
    I count the days of sobriety

    looking down the track
    all I see are sixes
    rolling on down the line

    paper hat stuffed in back pocket
    patterned like salt and pepper
    sporting paper suit and
    folding paper planes
    riding atop the dream train

    kansas city’s but a night
    or two away
    its lights and sounds
    pulsating in my veins



    january two thousand seventeen
    copyright j matthew waters
    all rights reserved

    undeliverable packages


    we’re not expecting any fireworks
    this year are we
    she yells from the other room

    (I think she’s talking to someone
    on the goddamn phone again)

    why in the hell are you asking about
    fireworks I yell back
    it’s only january for fuck’s sake

    but it’s too late
    the package has been delivered
    and the driver has gotten away

    it’s strange how silence
    can be so deafening

    it’s difficult to fall into a deep sleep
    eyes routinely blinking
    like an old film projector
    telling silent stories

    eventually the movie ends
    usually in a whimper
    and I slowly reach consciousness
    only to discover the time of day

    it’s four a.m. and
    somewhere I hear a mother crying



    january two thousand seventeen
    copyright j matthew waters
    all rights reserved

    at one with the earth


    they huddle around the fire
    the little ones in front
    wrapped in animal hides
    and mesmerized by the flames

    black and bedazzled
    is the sky
    spotlighting
    exhalations of storytellers
    reading from unwritten books

    soundless nights accentuate
    the reality of dreams
    projecting and protecting
    the history of a people
    at one with the earth



    december two thousand sixteen
    copyright j matthew waters
    all rights reserved

    rapid eye movement


    trees speak in your sleep
    like those three dogs
    chained up down the street
    scratching at the aluminum fence
    and digging holes in
    all the wrong places

    trees speak in your sleep
    using the wind and
    birds and insects as carriers
    scratching out memos
    and pontificating about the evils
    of the new world order

    trees speak in your sleep
    sharing secrets from the shire
    hosting a murder of crows
    gathering above the creek
    whispering incessantly
    fearing you may awaken



    december two thousand sixteen
    copyright j matthew waters
    all rights reserved

    déjà vu and me


    I am tired but I wake up anyway

    I don’t dare dream of showering for fear
    that I may never get out

    yesterday I had hypothermia
    at least that’s what I thought
    but every time I took my temperature
    it said I had a fever

    I don’t play the french lottery
    but for some reason
    I keep checking the numbers

    I used to dream of blackbirds
    screaming at the sunrise
    but now all I get are sunsets
    exploding exactly like last night



    november two thousand sixteen
    copyright j matthew waters
    all rights reserved

    Little Bo Peep’s Awakening


    She wore a cotton dress on a warm
    and sunny day
    slightly off-white and sleeveless
    complementing and accentuating
    her light brown skin

    He wore his casual Sunday best
    strolling along
    white button-down oxford shirt
    starkly contrasting pleated charcoal slacks
    creased perfectly

    Sitting on park bench imagining
    her breathing slows
    her inner thoughts pressing on
    unaware of sights and sounds passing by
    before her eyes

    From out of the fold he reappears
    like a lost lamb
    wandering most aimlessly
    a blot on the vastness of her dreamscape
    off-black yet bright



    november two thousand sixteen
    copyright j matthew waters
    all rights reserved

    as I turn off the light


    the sun rises in the east
    and there is no place to escape

    time chases me in my sleep
    forcing me into places I would
    never dare enter otherwise

    the sun dangling over my shoulder
    I’m reminded I could be facing
    something much worse
    than my own shadow

    the city streets are cold tonight
    interminable winds whistling
    past streetlights that never dim



    october two thousand sixteen
    copyright j matthew waters
    all rights reserved

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