caught on thin ice
i suddenly became lost
like a runaway kite
my cheeks busting
eyes leery yet fearless
of the insane cracks
daring my bladed soles
to never stop flying
july two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
When sails are set high
And the wind is just right
We can coast
Toward the shore
We can make it
Before light
The stars up above
Are like a guide
That we trust
When their light
Reaches out
We know we are loved
two thousand seven
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
what kind of life is this
with all the dirt and disease and dangers
having to bring out your dead
once a month
not to mention
not having access to wikipedia dot org
nor understanding the concept
of pursuing happiness
june two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I found your mirror
when looking for something
in the walk-in closet,
the oval, black-framed one
with the ivory handle.
A lightning bolt crack
shot down from top
to bottom, carving my face
with a sharp knife
misplaced years ago.
june two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
She blew me a kiss
and I snatched it
out of thin air
– like I always do
told her if only
it wasn’t the last one
I’d be a billionaire
june two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
deep thoughts reside
on the far side of the moon
where the sleeper catcher
infrequently visits
an otherwise quiet mind
gradually over time
subconscious spirits
escape past the dreams
quietly acting out
a world I yet to know
may two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
clouds darkened
the evening sky
as crickets
blanketed the field
the migration
has already begun
nuclear winter
is near
may two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
You can’t leave candles
burning all night,
she said.
It was then
I imagined
how people lived
before Edison.
Are you kidding me?
I asked,
amazed the house
had yet to burn down.
april, two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
Armed with knowledge and truth
angels wander along a rocky coast
occasionally glancing
at the multi-colored sky
breathing in virgin air
and tasting salt-water
from a never-ending sea
that crashes and rolls onto itself
and toward those who wait
with extraordinary patience
for their time to be called
march, two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
Mama always sat on the glider
on the front porch, slightly
swinging and knitting away
on a scarf or such,
looking up every now and then
to keep tabs on her chickens.
january two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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