jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Josephine


We watched the aquamarine sky
on a hot summer night
neither saying a word
though both screaming inside

I knew you were already gone
but we continued to hold hands
as if to say nothing will change
despite the obvious facts

You were always so good to me
though I never knew why
frequently sad but in a good way
I keep your wistful smile by my side

They never understood
the magic that we shared
and now that the sun is sinking low
we’re bound to rise together again




june two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

gravitational pull


she moved from room to room
her feet never touching the floor
wanting to believe she was real
I pretended we were dancing

lights were low & hopes high
for the very first time I felt like
I was closer than ever to the center
your world gravitating toward mine




june two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

bedtime stories


I’ve got this feeling
the world is descending
into total chaos
and no government
or virus or drug is going
to stop the slide

forget about any steal or lie
there is simply
a disturbing progression
toward deadlier weapons
& even more potent
contraband

how do you tell your children
this is not what living
is supposed to be like
& what stories
can you possibly tell them
come bedtime




june two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the quiet earth


the ocean pulls back
& the moon
wanes
unattended smoldering
slowly advancing


call it a slow burn
if you will
call it a cleansing
a purging
fire on the water
strangely inviting

the earth has never
been this quiet
the airwaves nearly vacant
except for what
the stars
& the quasars giveth




june two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the last of the subway series


going into the eighth
anything could happen
for you see
the fat lady has yet to sing

yogi nods to casey
who pulls the starter
& that’s when it all starts
to unravel
the say-hey kid
dancing around second

in the right field bleachers
all the fans boisterously sing
ninety-nine bottles
of beer on the wall

of course it all comes
crashing down
when mister coffee bounces
into a double entendre
thereby passing the torch
onto number seven himself




june two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

back into your busy world


how far you’ve roamed
little lamb
chased away by barking dogs
on the hunt for a scent
nothing to do with
the likes of you


further lost day after day
tip-toeing on pins & needles
the rock tricky
& occasionally vertical
hopefully opening to a surprise
on the other side

another sleepless night
gave way to northern winds
bringing with it
dreams of the future
retracing countless steps
back into your busy world




june two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

lost in late june


it’s late but not that late
the sun nowhere in sight
little ones out back yelling
where did it go
where did it go


nobody knows where the
butterflies went
chased away by roman candles
someone did say
someone did say

lost in deep thought
trapping stars in glass jars
smaller than fireflies
falling from the sky
falling from the sky




june two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

from the kitchen window


new blooms move with the arc
of the perennial sun
stretching their necks
& blinking their eyes
wide open to brand new ideas


the earth has become
more than an orbiting sphere
to mere mortals
a linear timeline from pre-fossil
to garden of eden
babylon to peloponnese
old paris to present day chicago

flower window boxes
simplistically shows how far
we’ve actually come
artistically covering the atrocities
of past & present & future
watering hope & possibility
right here from the kitchen window




june two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

prime numbers & secondary colors


use your words
written or spoken
or by way of signing
all depending upon
how you see yourself
at the moment

at times words
simply won’t do
like when jesus upturned
tables at the temple
or elvis attaining
his isolated lowest

and what about those
outer body episodes
when all you have
are prime numbers
and secondary colors
to express yourself




june two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

nineteen ninety-nine


they were small samples
but they were perfect
neat & tidy & filed away
in the cooler

this place is so secure
maybe not like fort knox
or maybe even more

even if I gave you
my (pass)word
or my barcode
the window to my soul
my first born or my last breath
you’d struggle
to get past the gate

as if in a flashback
we find ourselves
hanging out in the cooler
passing around bits & pieces
subconsciously agreeing
how nineteen ninety-nine
was a killer year




june two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

early in the morning


hand me your dream
let me take it from there
let’s see how far
we can stretch the sky

it’s been ages
since I’ve heard voices
finally returning
to calm me down

I used to think angels
disguised themselves
as red wing blackbirds
restless by the roadside




june two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

back in the game


new leather bag
jet black with a thin strap
count ‘em one two
three gold zippers
perfect for
compartmentalizing
a few zodiac signs &
today’s mental mood


money clip holding tight
a few precious scraps
an apple card with a slice
or two in reserve
privy to proof of legal age
& all kinds of insurance

fingernail clipper
a box cutter (just in case)
a chain with too many keys
a rosary with black beads
a few triple A batteries (again
just in case)
and so many more little
metallic things

strolling down 5th avenue
like a big dog on parade
the big pouch empty but open
hoping something that glitters
may yet again
catch my cautious eye




may two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

center of the universe


an explosion at the end of the street
chased all the strays out of the backyard
of the empty house for sale next door

only half a block away
my windows shook but all remained intact

multiple sirens sounded closer every millisecond

I looked out the bay window but all I saw
was smoke billowing
upward in the once clear blue sky
like a fat charcoal snake twisting & turning vertically
as if commanded by its charmer

what used to be a quiet street
became anything but
curiosity seekers gathering at an alarming rate
to what appeared to be the new

center of the universe
a place becoming more dangerous by the hour




may two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

further feeding the dream


listen
can’t you hear
that little buzzing bee
chasing you
in a dream

glass jar in one hand
lid in the other
catching flashes of light
once the sun
dissolves itself

in the dream
you are in the glass jar
shaped like your
mother’s uterus
the contents
gradually evolving

lukewarm & invisible
you direct the workers
in & out of the garden
collecting pollen
& other personal data
fed back into the dream




may two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

immeasurable precipitation


sadness lingers in the air
going on fifteen days now
absent the once smiling sun
stuffed inside some closet
like a forgotten promise

I keep thinking the end is near
a place that doesn’t exist
simply an inherent idea
implanted into my heart
the first time I witnessed light




may two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

objects in mirror are closer than they appear


how will I write traveling
near the speed of light
hazards blinking red
or so command tells me

the autopilot speaks
on different occasions
sort of a play by play
coming through the pipe

I lean back & jot down
a few words about the weather
always lacking here
no wind no rain no snow

personal experience
tells me I become younger
each passing light year
lines on faces diminishing




may two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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