there I go again
off into the unknown
can’t you see me waving goodbye
way up high in the sky
my arms like supersonic wings
folded behind my shoulders
my legs tucked inside the fuselage
on my way to the moon
to spend a night or two
a brief interlude before moving on
march two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
She walked into the room
a waxing gibbous
with a baby inside
shining brightly
like perpetual hope
as if to say
everyone stop & look
I’ve become the gift bearer
But that was yesterday
her brightness fading
like a silent star
settling into a routine
fit for a Queen
coming changes sublime at best
wild & random thoughts
fading yet still aglow
march two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
watching the evening news
is an old habit I’ve yet to break
I get what’s going on
no thanks to the world wide web
a constant feed linking me
to all corners of the world
as if I actually live & breathe
the air I’ve come to witness
I understand the moon
is not the same
above war-torn populations
shedding pieces of itself
like fireflies from heaven
hoping to be captured
by boys & girls
with & without homes
december two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
O! god of sea & air
how you lure me to the coast
breathing in your aura
permeating throughout
the here & now
O! it’s not too late
it’s never too late
slowly repairing the damage
inflicted by the excesses
of the city
O! god of sea & air
how your calling teaches me
wave after wave (after wave)
full moon arising
the night forever young
november two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
mahogany skull made for two
handbuilt over a lunar cycle
docked at the river’s edge
crescent moon rises mid-morning
the boat made for two
crossing still waters to intersect
with the satellite
reeling her into the boat
—bringing my love back home
november two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the night is young
ageless like a new moon
at the break of dawn
a trio of violinists
tuning their instruments
in a field of wheat
seven angels harmonizing
holding golden tapers
shimmering like the stars
november two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
listen carefully my love
for I shall be whispering
the words that vibrate
through the air
shaped by the moon
& the crow
& the trees standing
tall on the boulevard
do not grieve my love
when the moon
loses its mystery
or the crow delivers
its last waltz
or the trees standing
tall on the boulevard
take their final bow
september two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
what sorrow is this
that sings me to sleep
on a moonless night
a gentle breeze stirring
the white curtains
brushing my check
what sorrow is this
that dreams inside me
sending me to places
foreign & soulful
two moons in the sky
guiding me to the sea
what sorrow is this
that speaks to me
without saying a word
teaching me to grieve
in a silent manner
teaching me to laugh (again)
when the time is right
september two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I can’t seem to shake her
anywhere I go
by land or by air or by sea
always on my tail
like a puppy or a shadow
an unshakable soul
I am rarely lost
but often found
hanging out at the shoreline
breathing in the promise
of an unmistakable
tomorrow
come morning you will be here
like a blue moon
in the making
once upon a time thin
as a wafer
relentless & unwavering
august two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
research says we’ve always
been part of the action
where or when
less important than the how
different channels
bring about varied accounts
most interwoven
like a patchwork quilt
galaxies & lost worlds
trapped inside blackholes
variable light
trickling through
wherever stretched or worn
in a corner
draped across an old wooden easel
its appearance everchanging
—duration & shadow
playing tricks of the mind
recalling a certain satellite
still larger than life
july two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
lost in the chase
that damn rat race
or whatever it is you want
to call it
going about things
wearing a dumb smirk
or a wry smile
not giving a damn about
how big is the ocean
you always believed
it’s best to live & die
near water
a little smarter
millimeters along the way
separating the noise
from the substance
often disguised as killer waves
or slow-motion currents
june two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I’ve lost a step
but not a beat
the morning sun
reminds me so
where I’ve been
means less & less
than where I’ll be
when the new moon
rises in the east
believe you me
I believe in you
& when there’s
no more trace
it simply means
I’ve set out for sea
june two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
what does it mean
when the moon is dressed in red
is she in pain or sorrow
or a reason for celebration
do you remember
when she once ran away
a boy & his dog giving chase
— how she disguised her visage
void of any color
as if hiding from herself
stars like wallflowers
wander without much thought
the lady in the mirror
appearing now & then
revealing just enough skin
enticing curiosity
june two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I’m uncomfortable in my bed
tossing & turning
as if in a grave
roots & stones & dirt taking hold
preventing me
from rising to the surface
from sleepwalking
to the north window
slinging it wide open
from floating across the room
like dracula
flinging open
the south window as well
a cool breezeway
quickly ensuing
allowing me to settle back in position
and dream peacefully
with an all night rain
may two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
dusk arrives unannounced
followed by cat calls & bird songs
filtering in thru the cracked window
had I not destroyed myself
just before the dawn
did not the moon inform me
you’re finished once & for all
my vision blurred & my voice raspy
the blood in my veins
still flowing freely
I find myself back to life
back to my somewhat former self
at the window I peer past the shade
— there appears the moon
nothing like I remembered
deaf & dumb & barely visible
painted the dullest gray
talk now I say
tell me about this immortality
you had promised
made possible you said
by the hangman’s noose
the very one inside this room
at the foot of the bed
march two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the trap door isn’t in the den
it’s in the dining room
an oriental rug
& four leaf oaken table
layered over it
on the table are tapers
a dozen in three candelabra
lit once a month [or so]
in honor of the new moon
inside the invisible space
resides a great spirit
—if you’re tempted
one time too many
you may never be seen again
[just go ask alice]
seated at the dining table
is a good place to be
as long as you have patience
and an appetite
—but if your sobriety
is in conflict with your inner self
it’s highly recommended
to eat in the kitchen
march two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 