I never expected
my battery powered lawn mower
to go up in flames
smoldering curbside
like a campfire just doused
with a pail of water
In retrospect I’m just happy
having my gas-powered honda
sitting safely in the garage
august two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
it’s always been too much house
black widows casting spells
from within wasted spaces
the tiny bedroom a dot in the ocean
—an island of misfit miscellany
muted noises next to nothing
to worry about
except when the water tables
start to rise
august two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
if there’s anything you need
you know where to find me
thanks I said & that I’ll do
after which I signed out
& shut her down
sometimes it’s too easy
communicating w/artificial intelligence
sometimes they dumb it down
to a point where you swear
they sound like someone
you should know
but the next time you try to make
such a connection
it’s just not the same
leading you to either
over-analyze the situation
or move on
just like in real life
august two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
internal time clock
ticking down
cold war key masters
standing by unseen
safeguarding
your sacred heart
at some point
time will stand still
cold war key masters
resigned to defeat
fully aware
all good things
must come to pass
july two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I was down in the dumps
staring into the palm of my
left hand
a couple digits on the other
practicing chopsticks
I hadn’t been to the junkyard
in what seemed like a lifetime
not looking for anything
in particular
especially not a porcupine
but this time I had technology
on my side
mystery & manipulation
lifting me out of my doldrums
and onto a path
never before seen
july two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
she just crapped out
I told the mechanic
arms crossed & looking down
at the hood
kicking the tire
what do you mean she just crapped out
asked the mechanic
I don’t know I said
but she did
she just crapped out
why don’t you open her up
& take a look for yourself
july two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
counting down the days
ten-nine-eight
see me as a babe
light as a feather
flung into the air
by two strong arms
seven-six-five
graduations
weddings
funerals
repetition
four-three-two
growing older
graying hair
in sickness &
in health
one-zero-blastoff
july two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
change is in the air
but then again what else is new
clouds like lies
covering prior mistakes
unnoticed by innocent eyes
nearly always sporting
rose-colored glasses
july two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I said I was sorry
but you left me in a puff of smoke
not even saying goodbye
to my punk ass
later on the sun & magnifying glass
burned fifty laser-like holes
up & down my arm
[thinking it was a portal to my soul]
connecting the dots with a bic pen
until it ran out of ink
it wasn’t the first time
I swore to myself
I’m done running backwards
july two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I see myself in the dirt
believing if it would only rain
I would somehow become
born again
there isn’t much left
that hasn’t already been said
therefore I sit in silence in the parlor
transitioning into dark mode
I never see myself alone
though at times I talk to myself
believing someone nearby is listening
at the top of the hour
the lamp in the corner turns on
all by itself
a sign of these technological times
casting shadows
& giving refuge
to whatever exists
in the far corners of my world
july two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
they like to hang out around here
ever since the place became less volatile
sensing a sea of tranquility quietly
transforming the surrounding terra firma
angelic mysteries elevating the living space
bringing in nature’s philharmonic symphony
one chair at a time
july two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
they stopped the clock
even though no one called time out
it was as if they were in a simulation
all eyes darting here & there
trying to figure out
what in the world was going on
behind the first door
there were dungeons & dragons
behind the second a violent thunderstorm
when someone chose the third door
that is when the clock stopped
and anyone within in a certain radius
stopped in their tracks
seemingly frozen in time
—for some reason the master creator
incapable of aborting the countdown
july two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
happiness defined
an impossible venture
using merely words
instead running afoul
with your own basic instincts
second-guessing
past mistakes
as if they can be corrected
if not in real life
then at least
in your own head
having churned there
long enough until dissolving
into nothingness
like a beautiful but forgotten
memory
july two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
Prospect park
its proximity to & commanding view
of the Mississippi
flowing west by southwest
a few miles south of the main path
Majestic homes built
up & down the grassy hill:
Queen Anne ~ Neoclassical
a Tudor Revival
Behind an attic window
there you find yourself again
twelve or fifteen years old
inhaling wisdom amongst friends
white triangles
racing across the angry current
binoculars within reach
upon the desk
july two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
They had no choice
but to take their medicine
and move on
Once the daisies opened
torrential rains swept in
—come morning
they were all wiped out
As children they played
hide-n-go-seek
and quite often
some were never found
One by one they fell
flying off the face of the earth
like amateur astronauts
oblivious as to what
they had signed up for
july two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
How old do you suppose she is
twenty-five?
The special on Thursdays is oysters
flown in last night.
The last time it was Wednesday
they were spraying down the ashes.
Afterwards the seagulls came in.
Then came the crows,
followed by the vultures.
It used to rain in these here parts
but that was when the children were unafraid
walking along the shoreline unattended.
The ocean is a desert.
The desert is an ocean.
Sometimes there are two moons in the sky;
that only means you’ve been dreaming again.
If you could take only one thing what would it be?
The seashell?
Or maybe a bird’s song?
But what of the shadow
or the shadow of a shadow of a shadow
what will become of them?
Surely if anything they will live on.
july two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 