I won’t be able to return
not without a password reset
the chances of success
appearing to dwindle by the day
The cranes brought forth the wind
by way of their transitory wings
with it the seeds of the wildflower
and the stench of the skunk
The enemy of humanity
persists well beyond Lazarus
giving new names to old towns
and rewriting the course of events
november two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
a full frost moon
rises & grows & shines
through the leafless elms
yawning & stretching
toward the opposite horizon
a dark red sky
overtaking cirrus clouds
gradually fading
into a deep purple
succumbing to the night
november two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I’ve lost interest in certain things
idle threats & sharp objects
exaggerated intimidation
designed by flawed intentions
underneath where I’m buried
there are no bones to dig up
no cellphones to unlock
no transcriptions to interpret
I’ve seem to have lost sight
of what’s not important
like replacing dead flowers
with yellow roses
the tavern at the top of the hill
has reopened unannounced
the one with no windows
& walled in futuristic graffiti
november two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the wind brought the robin’s
farewell song
briskly whistling through
the crabapple tree
high up in the sky
recycled machine parts
fall in a straight line fashion
picking up speed
but not disintegrating
the crabapple attracts
scores of robins
copping a buzz & chattering
like blue-haired biddies
at a mahjong tournament
no matter how fast
the wind blows westerly
it can’t forever prevent the sky
from crashing the party
november two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I saw the same red sky
you once told me about in your
second letter
always worlds apart
except for that one time
back in nineteen seventy-nine
I once wrote my heart
was breaking
that time you were in the hospital
keeping your sister alive
though I never heard
from you again
I frequently find your face
in the most crowded of places
november two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
What’s in a name
or a date
such as Alexander the Great
or three twenty-three before Christ
Questions such as these
lead to others
uncovering a string of
undefeated battles
ranging across vast regions
How is it the war
within man
is unstoppable
as if the original instructions
flowing through the bloodstream
had been altered
by a God with a wry sense of humor
november two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
electric economy
smiling like a cheshire cat
purring nervously
but happy to be here
the highway is super
quiet tonight
fatal casualties
down to a minimum
we’ve stopped
taking names & faces
steering wheels
replaced by wishes
november two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
a victim of someone else’s selective memory
the sting wears away like a pinprick
left looking off into space
unable to wrap your head around anything
a hunger strike breaks out & rattles the world
prisoners locked inside dulls minds
their souls fluctuating
between today & a defective yesterday
true gut feelings at times underestimated
picking up on impossible scents
tightening when afraid
looking to escape into the next open field
november two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
it’s in the future but it feels
like it’s in the past
she told me to take some notes
and be sure to see her
in the end
I’m working on it
but I’m mostly clueless
the numbers having no meaning
to me other than knowing
they mean something to you
I told you I’d give it a try
but the days seem to pass
without consequence
as if the next century
started nearly a decade ago
november two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
they tell me I’ve been canceled
but all I can say is hey man
what else is new
I’ve been thinking about moving
so I bought a raincoat
& stood in the shower for an hour
[upon returning it the next day
I explained how I decided
to stay put]
now all I do is walk around
with my walking stick
(aka black umbrella)
daring anyone who looks like me
to a duel to the death
november two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
messing with circadian rhythms
just for the fun of it
or out of sheer boredom
a half attempt to be noticed
a shout out to the world
how nothing seems to matter
it’s as if I’m preaching third shift
& sleepwalking by day
strangers coming up to me
on crowded sidewalks
calling for autographs & saying
don’t I know you from another life
we gather at the city center
a walled garden eight blocks square
oaks & cedars providing shade
benches & flowers & fountains
adorning the pathways
growing crowd beginning to quiet
november two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
how do you let them go
those things you keep in a box
unsealed & unafraid
undefining momentos
keeping secrets only you know
they don’t have to be in a box
these things dying to be understood
a pocket knife
a french cuff
a poker chip from mandalay bay
text & paperback & comic books
a pocket watch & chain
virtually discarded
they will forever remain
[at least metaphysically]
like parting gifts to anyone
either coming or going again
november two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
dressing in moods requires
an extensive wardrobe
consider the rainbow
(for example) she says
on the surface only seven colours
but if you possess enough ambition
can easily be turned into countless
ambiguous amalgamations
november two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the doorbell rings the cat awakens
saunters through the kitchen
past the self-feeding station
nobody’s been home
for nearly a fortnight
yet everything continues to function
lights off & on by way of automation
the refrigerator hums
the furnace kicks in
the mail delivered day after day
piling up inside the man door
winter fast approaches
some hunker down while others
go their separate ways
either temporarily or forever
november two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
to be more abstract
a jonathon cut into six parts
shared by four people
sitting ‘round a table for three
conversations often lead
to detours & dead ends
how the one never listens
all others simply rambling
it always get late too early
in this part of town
floating higher than ten stories
thank you hash under glass
the count is unanimous
pheasant for the last supper
a wish & likely a reality
pears ripening in wicker basket
november two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
nobody knows what comes next
that is the beauty of it all
whether for better or worse
there you find yourself
at the end of the plank
afloat in the center of a deep dark sea
pistols & rapiers commanding you
to decide your own fate
what follows next
is of no consequence
for just as you had no choice
entering a strange new world
full of contradictory rhyme & reason
you are left with no option
but to plunge back into a vastness
as mysterious as the deep dark sea
november two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 