we keep copying ourselves
but to no avail
the destiny of humanity
is written in stone
dug up and buried
time & again
it used to be
whatever died here
stayed here
but now that we’ve learned
to pierce the dome
we may never return again
september two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
fat chances
& second guesses
I’ll pass on placing any bets
[or judgments for that matter]
with such shitty odds
I’ve got no memory issues
—any regrets that may exist
are simply a thing of the past
as far as reconciling with the world
that was never in my hands
I’ve washed them clean
thanks to the goodness
of the almighty
also known as the heir apparent
september two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
he thinks she’s gassed
not drunk
just exhausted to the bone
by way of living
flat-footed & unable to react
like she once used to
he’s not doing much better
pretending to be a bird
surviving
on seeds & roadkill
an occasional
brandy slightly chilled
they sold or gave away
everything
& took their act on the road
convinced there was something
out there
besides consumption
september two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
it’s complicated
how the days pass by like years
slowly becoming
as old as the moon
dying
at the end
of its final phase
brand new shadows
appear from the faintest of light
light that speeds
past corners
zeroing in on
a present
that recently existed
september two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
—with a nod to Don Henley
You don’t call me anymore
my queen of hearts
always out with your fabulous friends
leaving me to reinforce
my habits & my vices
occasionally tinkering with thoughts
turning some into words
into sounds
into symbols
scratching out some sort of picture
a sort of black & white dystopia
search party fully assembled
and sent from above
desperately chasing my senses
august two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
it’s late august & something
is very very wrong
nobody can put their finger on it
but then again
nobody really tries
instead it’s finger pointing
and a bunch of global
[counterproductive] exercises
breakfast is dinner
won’t you come & join me
bacon & tomatoes & farm fresh eggs
yes you heard me right
anyone near or far
I’m out there ringing the bell
the cook’s in the kitchen
bats stirring in the attic
come in come in and take
your feet off at the door
there’s no surveillance here
no propaganda
no weapons
no contraband
only open air & open ideas
inside this roofless abode
where the rains fall & the grass grows
where the truth is acceptance
& lies are burned
down to the ground
august two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
to you I can tell nothing
and so I sit & listen for the wind
to bring me something new
if the silence were a shadow
and you retreated
for a time
I would then speak whenever
the sun allowed me to
in the late evening
the sounds of the day
reinvent themselves intensely
—a language all their own
you saying nothing as I
listen for clues
august two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
You can’t be a doctor if you don’t know the entire parts of the body
— Bernard Jeffrey McCullough
After pulling out
the Good Doc tells me
it’s nice & smooth
— she hands me a tissue
and turns her back
degloving
It’s been a few years
and we both agree
(at my age)
checking in regularly
is more than likely
a Good Thing
august two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
here we go again
giving praise where praise is due
never to mere mortals
(we should know better)
but perhaps a god a goddess
one who walks beside us
no specific revelation
exists in anyone’s lifetime
for you see any such thing
(if existing one way or another)
must come before the preface
or right after the finale
august two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
Siren after siren after siren
Off in the distance
A constant wailing gradually fading
Sounding like a fire breathing dragon
Dying a slow death
august two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the fish are biting & man bites dog
the beach is brimming with confidence
hanging ten a common occurrence
getting twisted into a pretzel
running at similar odds
as getting shot or arrested
down by the pier the fish are biting
and kids with smartphones
chill beneath the decking
researching ammunitions
and ordering ghost guns
on the trail dogs dressed as cops
walk on their hind legs
flashing their five-pointed stars
and barking randomly
hardly anyone
seeming to take notice
august two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I’m trying but I just don’t get it
how in the world am I expected
to get from point A to point B
when I’ve no idea where I am
I’m told to start from the beginning
which of course takes me back
to the bassinet
pretending to be sleeping
strangers occasionally checking in
to see if I’m still breathing
where I go from there
is anyone’s guess
except of course for those
in the know
august two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
he’s not eaten in a while
you can easily tell
legs & arms moving
[as if] involuntarily
shoving into his face
anything he can get
his paws on
hominid or animal
it’s too early to tell
definitely not from
anyone’s locality
having crashed into
the wild wild rainforest
once upon a time
august two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
sideways with the world
eyes crossed & nearly closed
all you wanted was bubbles
but the wind took everything away
the birds & bees & prosperity
the clouds & trees & grass
to the point where the entire panorama
was dirt & dust & sky
[like in Steinbeck’s The Grapes of Wrath]
and you’re left as a stranger to yourself
in your worn leather boots
desirous of a shot of whisky
& a bubble bath
instead left to kicking
a rock down the road
a rock not even the mighty god of wind
cared to notice
august two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
there is much to fear
but the thought is fleeting
for there is much to do
such as renaming islands
or teaching children
a new language
forces around the world
gain momentum
destroying anything
in their path
—years later a second wave ensues
[the reconstruction phase]
villages slowly reappearing
vegetation taking root
from the ashes
august two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I’ve learned that August
has a mind of its own
a pretender with multiple
personalities
like a common mynah
I’ve learned it’s easiest
to pull weeds after the rains
their roots becoming
relaxed & confused
simultaneously
I’ve learned it’s best
to write a poem
when there are things
still needing doing
—the importance
of the day
having lost all meaning
august two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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