jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

finding out sooner than later


sure you can start all over again
but it will have to be in a new body


which do you prefer this time
tall & dark & handsome
athletic or wirey or robust
perhaps a shy woman
putting to song the saddest
poetry ever written

sure you can start all over again
but you may not remember
the life you left behind

or perhaps you’d like to come back
with a certain kind of awareness
the god of rebirth giving you clues
of who you once were

and when you become of age
the new you suddenly
becomes obsessed
peeling back layer upon layer
like a genealogist
that proverbial onion having you
burning candles at both ends

scouring the information superhighway
soon you’ll face your next demise





april two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

I wonder about her


on an early sunday morning
at a nightclub downtown
two are dead & ten wounded

the police chief proclaims
it’s a peaceful city

but this is the twenty-first century
& anything is possible

the flattening of architecture
            the eradication of human groups
the barbarity         of technology
      the weaponization of
                                                outer space
hours later
church bells ring loud in all
the downtown churches
huge doors opening & shutting
the fat lady singing from the balcony

yellow tape & chalk outlines
I look & listen for some sort of sign
and wonder about her





april two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Recalling the Day I Died


I’ve become dizzied

    ~ spinning faster than a top
or something known as a whirling dervish

struggling to recall the day’s events
I’ve given up on the present

there is much digging going on

          in the garden

                it is springtime

& the commotion is overwhelming

            the year nineteen fourteen
the last time I was alive





april two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

crossing the line


I tell myself I can’t write poetry like that
that my voice just won’t obey
what the mind wants to imitate

and even though I once was a blackbird
my voice will sing no more

isolated by accident
I consider knives & scissors & fingernail
cutting up a past by creating
jagged shapes out of paper
and new definitions out of thin air

how the pieces get put back together
is out of my control
for there are more compelling things
to consider as we cross over the line





april two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

haunted by the noise


it’s a daily occurrence
having to deal with the noise
that time makes
a constant churning
like making ice cream
in the garage
on a summer afternoon

on days like these
it’s easy to lose identity
picking up on vibes
like knowledge & belief
having been everywhere
spooning in the salt
making a new sound





april two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

from the book of an arsonist


shadows in the open field
keep running toward the sun
the hair of the ghosts
blowing in the opposite direction
courtesy of westerly gusts

these hills haven’t burned
for more than four centuries
old world ideas rekindling
the adjacent forest
ancient & anxious to impress

a collision is inevitable
the outcome undeterminable
ashes redefining themselves
by way of a circular wind
the scent of the air palpable





april two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

while in the pursuit of happiness


today’s glass
wiped of memories
eliminated by tanks since
destroyed

yesterday’s was
half empty
scattered thoughts
incapable of
piecing together a single thing

tomorrow’s glass
is yet to exist
its contents incubating
awaiting on a toast
to the victor
goes the spoils

boo/hiss to the insatiable





april two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

addicted to the madness


shots fired in the tourist district
a stampede in the streets
just past midnight

the eyes of children fearless & furious
peer through casement windows

though brighter than the morning light
they dare not stare too long
lest they go blind

sirens & flashing lights & gunshots
feet running & cars screaming

confusion reigns & becomes supreme
bodies pretend to sleep
just past midnight

the eyes of children fearless & furious
regaining count of all the sheep

refuge & solace sought after
who will offer comfort
in this chaos

as if thrown into a make-believe mob
they act without instruction

moonshine barely noticeable
spotting bullet casings
just past midnight

the eyes of children fearless & furious
rewinding & replaying





april two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

one good burn at a time


from the four corners of the world
the effigy business is alive & well

tonight’s moon will be copper in color
complementing the fiery flames
dancing up the stake

the cancel club is hard at work
recruiting new members &
identifying new targets like a child
flipping through a toy catalog

behind the scenes
in garages & basements & inside
the minds of newly born royalty
the likenesses are growing in number
misaligned & lighting up the night sky





april two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

entering the dark moon phase


sometimes it’s about
not even trying
losing yourself like a leaf
loses its birthplace
only to discover
that the letting go
couldn’t have been
any easier

how easy is it for you
to fall to the ground
defenseless
at the mercy of the winds
of fire & rain
the everlasting moon
your only friend
giving & taking light

lightning crashes
dramatic randomness
will you be there
right on the spot
a specific place in time
is it a coincidence
or queer luck of the draw
determined at birth





april two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

I keep my eggs on the kitchen counter


I buy my eggs from a lady outside of Palo
a short drive from here that can be reached
by way of three different routes

even though she lives on an acreage
in a modest ranch style house
with a couple of outbuildings
I tell people I only buy farm fresh eggs

she’s got chickens too
probably pigeons & field mice
& so many other cast out critters

once a year she sells me a few 10-pounders
I stash them away in the basement freezer
where they eventually disappear

on the kitchen counter is where I keep my eggs
all differently sized & colored
their eggshells thin & dirty
sitting pretty inside their recycled cubicles





april two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

crossing over


it’s not going to end well if they can’t cross the river
son saying independence day is any day now
daughter stitching an eye back in dolly

they built sutliff bridge where they did for good reason
having been damaged only recently
the local astronomer sends them another way

it’s either a death trap or the ultimate tipping point
& though contradictory on the surface
what happens next makes perfect sense





april two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

first and last second chance


always on the run misfortune separates a thousand lifetimes

we’ve met before
how many centuries past
however brief
suddenly standing before me
destined to my wife

there is much in store
as we settle upon a land
foreign to us
blues skies & fertile soil
designed by nature’s law

from this day forth
we shall never part again
not by life or death
neither by nature’s wrath
nor man’s unjust wars





march two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

on breaking bandwidth


privileges have expanded
beyond belief
shocking the world exaggeratingly
bawdry & bigotry & downright
disrespectfulness
machine gun-like insults
mowing down the unaware
& the innocent
by one bad actor after another





march two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

alone behind the sun


where do you start the story
a constant change
the river rises
& she falls
there is no beginning
but the ending is all but certain
a colossal possibility
like wings crafted by dædalus

you sit alone bewildered
wondering what’s
behind the eyes
of the sun
a story rich in ancestry
reworked & rewritten
ever unfolding & far reaching
like a flashmob of angels





march two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

pauses & continuations


there’s no news for good reason
spirits & communication lines long down
parade routes forever rerouted
people on the streets a thing of the past
the lower atmosphere littered with drones
weaponized or humanitarian in nature
controlled from as far away as the arctic circle
or as close to the boy next door





march two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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