jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

01 Dec 2020
3 Comments

sometime after sunset


as old stories unravel
new possibilities begin
artfully rewriting your own
character
right there in the streets
of portland oregon

some catch on early
seeing right through the fabric
of santa           & the great pumpkin
          of organized religion
or the deep state itself
     [while far too many others
fall for the latest mousetrap]

it stands to reason
one mistruth leads to another
          but at some point
all good things must come to an end

imagine now
everything you ever imagined
never belonged to you



december two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in In the City and tagged ,
30 Nov 2020
9 Comments

to the flowers of the forest


I’ve confronted death before
or was it vice versa
I do not recall

I remember being unafraid
and to the trees surrounding me
I said you will be my witness

then the north wind did blow
aiding me to my feet
and it was at that moment
I began to understand
the silence of the woods

the heart never truly heals
it simply seeks to regenerate
like the flora of the forest



november two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Nature, Poetry and tagged , ,
29 Nov 2020

alien drug trade


we got in the car
and made a beeline downtown

it was almost december
and it was goddamn cold
the northwest wind
having gone crazy all afternoon

I had the capital
and you had the road map
a big fat beaver moon
illuminating our every move

everyone knew the aliens
had the best microdust
the trick you said
was all in the translation

I’d been underground before
but not in the inner city
and as we continued
to descend further
an inner emotional voice
kept telling me to fear not




november two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Aliens, Poetry and tagged , , , | Leave a comment
28 Nov 2020
3 Comments

planting purple petunias by your side


to be humbled is an understatement
there is just too little time to begin with
and I seem to have lost my way

I’ve been digging for treasure far too long
and I’ve grown tired of manipulation
oh how I want to be able to trust again

I spent most of the afternoon solitarily
tidying up your place & the neighborhood
planting purple petunias by your side




november two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged ,
27 Nov 2020
3 Comments

by way of transportation


the mind is able but the body disabled
what kind of drugs have they injected into me
what kind of dreams do they have in store

I’ve never been to los angeles
but I’ve been to san francisco
and there I was again
seventeen going on thirty
walking the streets at night
making friends with the cold pacific

they’re trying to wake me from the dream
thousand of hands tugging at my strings
time continuing to reverse some 12 days now

I hopped on a jet airliner
and made my way to clay county
via chicago midway
eventually self-quarantining
resting atop the ancient bluffs
overlooking the mississippi

the eagles soar high in rotating fashion
I close my eyes & will them nearer
as quiet as the sky they pass me by




november two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Dreams, Poetry and tagged ,
26 Nov 2020
2 Comments

the standing dead


they may be dead by definition
but on all other terms
provide growth opportunities
for termites & beatles & ants
molds & mildews & mushrooms

the attraction is powerful
creatures with or without wings
drilling & boring & hammering
building new homes from scratch
or renovating abandoned ones

grey ghosts now centuries old
skyscrapers taller than ever
actively contributing
to the smorgasbord of life
perhaps more vital than before




november two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Nature, Poetry and tagged , ,
25 Nov 2020

three in the morning


I call my brother
he doesn’t pick up because
he doesn’t recognize the number

I say he should start drawing again
       suddenly there’s crackling
                  maybe some laughter
two or three or four of them
         speaking in tongues
telling me to shut the fuck up

I put the phone down
find myself moonwalking across
the newly polished laminate floor

out on the terrace deck
       I breathe in the outside air
                  all the voices
gradually fading away
         the koi in the pond below
beginning to jump for joy




november two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , | Leave a comment
24 Nov 2020
2 Comments

Corvid at a crossroads


I thought I had started something
turns out I’m just consciously resuming
released after an abbreviated pause

Don’t think I didn’t notice you banded me
(on my left foot) like a common criminal
paroling me back into society
hopeful my eventual return yields
a multitude of data sets

This much I say & this much you know
I am not some lame carrier pigeon
at the mercy of manipulation
the multitude of neurons in my brain
tells me I’ll never see you again

Meanwhile the family bickers and balks
complacent or jealous or abhorrent
the far majority close to casting lots




november two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Birds, Poetry and tagged , , ,
23 Nov 2020

motionless & wrapped in a shawl


not sure if we’re picking up the pieces
or simply putting them
back together
like some subliminal jigsaw puzzle
showcasing rose petals on a hardwood floor
a shadowy figure in the corner rocker
bent but not broken
a filtered sun unable to expose
any kind of emotion
let alone a mind suspended in time




november two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Micropoetry, Poetry and tagged , , | Leave a comment
22 Nov 2020

Spanish Moon


I’ve often wondered
about the Spanish Moon
if I could possibly make it out
once having gone inside

The hookers & hustlers there
will tear you apart
as long as you have that spark
diamonds in your eyes
and rings inside your soul

They’ll take anything they want
at the Spanish Moon
as you foolishly fall in love
with that dark-eyed girl
singing & playing guitar




november two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , , | Leave a comment
21 Nov 2020
4 Comments

ongoing clinical trials


it was thursday & we turned
everything off

outside the front door
I stood on the patio & breathed in
the fresh air
unapologetically

the grass & concrete
were slightly frosted over
the neighborhood street
quiet & mostly vacant
(somehow eerily queer)
like in a king story
or hitchcock movie

back in the kitchen
feel free to pick your poison
mimosa or bloody mary
or any kind of shot in the dark
whether from the liquor
or medicine cabinet

if for some reason
you feel the need to get away
please remember the little turkey
should be ready by two




november two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,
20 Nov 2020
7 Comments

missing out (or february thaw)


it was a late february morning
I recall it like yesterday

relaxing in the union lounge
black coffee & marlboro lights

I pen senseless poetry
comfortably numb in a window seat

the sun warming my ballpoint
unleashing thoughts onto the notebook

other than the dirty snowpack
it was truly a springlike day

& as I packed up & headed out
to my ten o’clock lecture

I was tempted to remind myself
how much I’ll miss the thaw



november two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,
19 Nov 2020
2 Comments

fourth or fifth dimension



the watch on my wrist
lets me know      how I sleep
recording      every inner pattern
turning them into algorithms


early morning sunrise
pushes the ghosts      aside
bread n butter      bread n butter
banana or apple or orange


life is a series of snacks
call them meals      if you may
planting trees      in the morning
raking leaves by night


what you don’t      experience
you live through others
thunder & lightning & raw fear
yes you say      the gods are angry


opening & closing at will
be it door      or window to the soul
bring in the good & let out the bad
now you see me      now you don’t





november two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,
18 Nov 2020

stuck in the middle


jimmy dugan said it best
about not crying
during a specific activity

I could have used that advice
back when I was a little leaguer
back when real life was
easily distinguishable
from this present day reality




november two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Baseball, Micropoetry, Poetry and tagged , | Leave a comment
17 Nov 2020

I am the boy god


I tried writing the end of this story
about a boy & his bird
bound together by a freak
accident his dead mother
would never forget
but in doing so was interrupted
distracted by a murder of crows
telegraphing their signals
mimicking words like secrecy
and pure fiction
a reminder those series of events
long ago were swept away by a
twisting turning wind
mystically created by the two of them




november two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Birds, Micropoetry, Poetry and tagged , , | Leave a comment
16 Nov 2020

on becoming a child


from snake to mouse
to predator bird
your understanding
naturally progresses
in complete alignment
with the slightest of stars

soon you’ll be able
to build a birdhouse
a boathouse
a townhouse
soon you’ll be able
to hold a heart in your hand

at some point
you’ll be showing others
how to interpret their own dreams
humming by the fireside
thread & needle in hand
mending leathery wings




november two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Dreams, Poetry and tagged , , , | Leave a comment

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