wall of denial
everything feeds into the next thing
until finally feeding unto itself
you catch words everywhere you go
words and phrases and sounds
you’ve never heard before
I should have given that man
that asked me
a dollar
but I thought I was out of singles
last ones spent on lotto tickets
turning the corner new sounds
enter into the atmosphere
lifting me atop the clouds
where I walked around for hours
there is this hidden turbulence
higher into the stratosphere
pockets of sabotage crouched down
waiting to strike wayward travelers
I’m not denying that I’ve never been there
but since coming back (to earth)
my perspective has never been sharper
august two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved





