jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the category “Dreams”

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

bull frogs and fairy tales


pretty princess sleeping on bed of nails
unable to differentiate between dreams
and real life kisses on the lips

at the hotel hilton she sleeps in
every single sunday
undisturbed by pretty maids wielding
feather dusters and vacuum cleaners

on mondays she checks out early
wandering the commonwealth’s streets
steering clear of the king’s wishes
and searching for something italian



october two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

like no tomorrow


my inner clock
wakes me when
I am tired
reminds me to take
pictures of my past
whether or not I’ll ever
revisit them

napping on couch
sunrays creep inside
my cobweb dreams
shaking them
making my eyelids flutter

photographs flash
frame after frame
like an accelerating
motion picture
the sun hardly
visible on bright canvass
falling rapidly like a
comet with no tomorrow



october two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

in search of stars and mermaids


I stepped onto a rocket ship
hoping it would take me away
from all earthly woes

a couple hundred bucks seemed
like a fair trade toward becoming
more or less ungrounded

the view from the top supersedes
all things seen and unseen
no matter how fleeting
like a beauty queen

unstrapped and plummeting
supersonically
gravity fought the law and
contained me
inside an asylum disguised
as a yellow submarine
far below the oily surface



september two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Gone but not forgotten


I saw the light of the faintest star
settle inside your eyes
blinking to life possibilities from
little known places

when the faintest light cast
indelible marks on the surface
somewhat more meaningful
and magical images evolved
expanding from within

creation doesn’t stop when stars
set in the west
just as dreams never drown in light

and that little child of yours
separated from violent strikes
reaches for your love
ascending


august two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

past the second to last light


a crack in the door
precious light leaks through
a parade marching
cockroaches scurrying
a mad dog sniffing profusely

the crack widens
and so does the mystery
known for its infinite lines
cast by fishermen
sitting on quarter moons

blown off its hinges
door flops like a magic carpet
sailing like a stringless kite
gradually disappearing
past the penultimate light


august two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

office pools and telephone lines


they sat inside shadow boxes
listening to the telephone ring
sharing desires and dreams
up and down the tufted line

someone on the other end
complained profusely
to someone who pretended to care
all the while launching sharpened
pencils into the glass ceiling

one of them strolled from station
to station with palm wide open
collecting dollar bills and stuffing
them into a groundless folgers can

come monday morning
they would do it all over again
listening to the telephone ring
and explaining what they’d do
with their fair share


august two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

toward the light of day


think of me
when the skies in your dream
break free from dusk

dream of me
when you roll over and discover
your softer side

think of me
as if I was still a young man
running after you

remember me
chasing you in your dreams
toward the light of day




july two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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