the house of displaced poetry
it’s not easy finding inspiration
on low visibility nights
so you just move on from
one thought to the next
hoping to find a place to call home
without a charge nights are lonelier
inner city sky void of lights
artificial ones hard to see
thanks to cold wintry mix
forcing shelters to exceed capacity
I’ve lived through this odyssey before
pocket book of poetry
pressed against my heart
three or four layers deep
every single word still very much alive
january two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved