The pressure within
knows no bounds
fluctuating over time
as a continual slow climb
of ebbs & flows
forever advancing to the point
where waters converge
submerging into oblivion
january two thousand twenty-five
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
wood burning stove
boastful & bright
a child & her bear toasty warm
asleep in the nursery
newly minted wishes
playing out in dreamland
the clock in hallway
completing the countdown
chiming twelve times
december two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
At the corner bodega
some el gato genial
told me they sell tamales
& mudslides in the musty cellar
after closing time on Friday nights
december two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
she sat staring at the painting
for hours on end
sitting in silence in disbelief
convinced the woman dressed in white
sitting on the red cushioned bench and observing
the painting on the museum wall
had not existed upon her last visit
december two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
Flags & banners
a singular spirit
a collective grievance
marching past
graffiti-lined walls
and underpasses
leading up to the hill
demanding the final pieces
be put into place
december two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
should I try to rhyme
or stay on the sidelines
my petty thoughts
reminding me of many faults
as a child or teen
or burgeoning adult
how time seems not to count
[in the grand scheme of things]
passing by on land or sea
or by way of angel wings
carrying me to places
I’ve been meaning to see
such as the wilds of timbuktu
or the colors of xanadu
december two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
first we moved the comfy chair
and matching ottoman
from the upstairs master bedroom
to the basement man cave
the wooden floor lamp went next
along with any memory
of a summer that wasn’t ever
supposed to end
november two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I couldn’t see the keyboard
anymore
couldn’t read it
with my fingertips
but at least I still had a voice
and the wherewithal
to get the party started
november two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
out in the fields
children capture carbon
out of thin air
armed with netting
& glass bottles w/airtight lids
having learned early on
rain forests alone
cannot save the planet
november two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I suppose I could always join
the monastery
the one at the top of a lesser god’s hill
where a silent bell
rings from inside a silver spire
hidden by a dark cloud
manufactured by imaginations
seeking solace & light
november two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
Every morning
if not right away certainly before
the midday sun
the masterbed shall be stripped & remade
all dusty thoughts removed
all windows swung open
a fragrance or two sprayed in
from out of nowhere
—for we know not
whose final dreams
may lie upon it tonight
november two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I am the aftermath
alive within the bubble
protected by the almighty
permitting me to return to my feet
and walk again among
the living & the dead
[in & out of the rubble]
just as I had once done
thousands of years ago
october two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
what do you got
I ain’t got nothing man
what about you
what’d you got
well I got these two feet
down below me
and I know they take me places
places I ain’t never
seen before
october two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the train departs
on the hour every hour
never late
never early
but always mostly full
it you want to leave today
then baby you got all day
and if you don’t
well the train keeps going anyway
—every tomorrow
the train departs
on the hour every hour
never late
never early
almost always full
october two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the living wood
handcrafted into the shape
of a guitar
sanded & stained
sung to during creation
—strung by strands of steel
one slightly slimmer
than the other
lithe like a woman’s figure
fine-tuned & alluring
october two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
We used to discuss
a broad range of current events
all the while
not understanding
how stressed we were
—but now all we talk about
is the weather & the cat
both of which
are the most obvious
happenings in the world
that is outside of all-out war
october two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 