painting you from memory
how many times now
eyes closed and slightly smiling
pencil-thin eyebrows hiding behind
rose-colored glasses
a shade similar to your swollen
cheeks after sailing from mid-afternoon
until sundown
one hand combing through your locks
the other pinned behind your back
april two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I lost sight of what I was going to say
my train of thought drifting aimlessly
unable to distinguish the difference
between forgiven & forgotten
the way invisible forces continually
remind us nobody is ever in charge
makes me smile & makes me sad
temporary eyelashes fluttering
I keep saying I was born to be down
though I don’t know what that means
something I imagined in a dream
or discovered over a lifetime
april two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
thinking about something for too long
often leaves you lost in the fray
like an overworked dream sequence
leading you in and out of consciousness
feeding on your inner fears
when becoming subjectively paralyzed
each hour bleeds into the next
almost always for the greater good
a reminder if this were but a movie
you’d have the option of moving on
every lost detail remains inside of you
and if only you had the power to bring
them all together simultaneously
you’d come to appreciate
why the gods remain in hibernation
april two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
First the stock market crashed
that emotionally intelligent bitch
always overreacting but always spot on
on her general assessment of things
Second the walls starting crumbling down
but unlike in the fall of eighty-nine when the
destruction ushered in a new era
this time fortified walls were swallowed
whole by the earth herself
further separating millions more
Third but not least all places of worship
were boarded up or locked down
desecrated or burned to the ground
and all the people of faith
no matter their object of devotion
believed it was only a matter of time
before theirs will be raised again
april two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the light continues to reflect off anything
in its path and I’m here to soak it all in
nothing seems to be working
the clocks are stuck again
all within plus or minus fifty years
meanwhile I sit just past third base
drinking old style and keeping score
childhood glove on lap
fly balls nowhere in sight
I’m in the hole
down on one knee
wondering where all the beautiful people go
once the game is over
since there’s nothing left to do
I’m thinking I should go to the beach
maybe put myself under the virtual spotlight
and find out a little more about myself
april two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
my alarm clock resides
on my wrist
bringing me back to life
routinely
quietly interrupting me
from the gray side
introducing birdsong
inside a sycamore tree
my flickering eyes
letting in varying degrees
of natural light
depending upon the
day or month of year
regardless if my latest dream
has gone viral
or died a peaceful death
seems like everything
needs charging
this strange day and age
electrical pulses
running rampant
cracking open eggshells
and letting go variably
by way of sirens
april two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
shredded paper on the countertop
serrated knife inside the kitchen sink
whose blood is that she asks
pointing to the countertop
and I respond innocently saying what blood
those droplets of blood making a trail
from this shredded paper on the counter
all the way to the kitchen sink
oh that blood I say
and she reiterates yes that blood
I wouldn’t know I say
I just got here
my eyes looking away as my feet
rock from heel to toe
sleeveless arms wrapped behind my back
april two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I’m having a hard time putting into words
what I’m trying to say
we are all creatures of habit and suddenly
we are not
listening to all the lonely people
on radio america
I hear how their lives have passed them by
and suddenly I’m questioning
why or how on earth
they could be so lonely in the first place
I swear
there will come a day
when the people on this planet
will not be as lonely as they are today
and suddenly they will be able to see
far beyond the sun
april two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
it’s been nine days now
and I still remember your scent
or perhaps it will remain a vivid memory
trapped inside a mysterious time warp
one recollection leads to the next
and before I know it I find myself
further back than I can possibly go
back where the smell of burnt embers
magically turn into morning rain
how many lives can I possibly endure
with such infinite detail
from birth to death to resurrection
[and death again]
each one purged and reclassified
after forty days and forty nights
of shear madness
april two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
it’s palm sunday and almost anyone
who gives a rip is doing high-fives
in web browsers and church parking lots
there’s a long line of cars stretched
for blocks near the epicenter of history
as if the life of the most famous person
in the city is hanging in the balance
in the old days there were no combustible
engines making the skies sadder
than they already are
mourners journeying to burial grounds
for what seemed to take a day or two or three
april two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
it seems not like a good idea
to always start from the beginning
[just go and ask the gods]
seemingly the majority of cases
should be fine glossing over
their pre formative years
it’s easy to get ahead of ourselves
are you sure there’s nothing
else worth gleaning over
[not everything is sacred]
rewind & copy & fast forward & paste
static or dead air it matters not
here we are punching holes
pretending being someone else
[or somewhere else]
makes all the difference in the world
if not in the short term
than most definitely for a lifetime
april two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
he’s taller than the smallest man
has been walking on water for days on end
not as mechanical as before
yet not as fluid as calligraphy
the sun’s been baking the ground
for twenty straight days
it’s near impossible to go barefoot on concrete
unless of course it lines a swimming pool
at the city park there’s a wishing well
as big as the summer sun
water pulsating twenty feet above
showering toddlers sporting pieces of cloth
april two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
this isn’t the moment though at times
it sure feels like it
the way the vibes are bouncing
off the walls
as if they’re the most random
of all happenstances
like an unrehearsed drum solo
I’m roaming the house with a couple
of sticks and music blaring
throughout the intercom system
planting make-believe
booby traps
for all the crazies who keep
ringing the front doorbell
april two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
shadows like birds or
birds like shadows
flying behind white linen curtain
coming and going
back & forth and over & under
undoubtedly feeding their young
or chasing their very own
displaced souls
since I couldn’t see
what I couldn’t see
I changed my train of thought
pretending they were giant moths
turned into beautiful butterflies
made possible by a warrior princess
carrying a magic sword
and a handful of wishes
march two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
pooh bear and roo sit on the front porch
rocking in their chairs six feet apart
a wicker table between them
enjoying iced tea & honey & small talk
people passing by gawk & smile & point
delighted to see they’re back in business
march two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
it’s friday
and the sun is in hiding
a fugitive
an accessory to the crime
once the great life source
now on the run
it’s anybody’s guess
how long
the rains will last
it’s been three days
since the cleansing began
hope begins to rise
march two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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