after show and tell tuesday
comes situation wednesday
where kindergartners take
what they learned from the day before
and apply it to the art of self-defense
there are no rules per se
except that all must participate
to advance the safety of the collective whole
not only within their tiny space
but everywhere near and far
december two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
something’s in the water
love must be in the air
pleasantly palatable
like a sweet red wine
often I’m reminded
of all the lost souls
searching for love
no place to escape
the river is low
and the moon is high
walking hand in hand
turning back time
now you see me
and now you don’t
rewinding eternity
brings you back to life
something’s in the water
won’t you have a taste
palatable like your eyes
seeing right through me
december two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
this world was meant to know her
an imagination sprayed artistically
in and out of the city and from town to town
on sidewalks & ramparts & brick walls
her soulful voice sound-checking microphones
anywhere in the middle of summer
from coast to coast and points in between
beautiful crowds gathering ‘round
eager to witness & listen & experience
anticipating something never to be seen
december two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
using century-old claw hammer
we pull the rusty nails
out of the two dozen body-sized
boxes that had drifted to shore
over a fortnight ago
the cedar had dried out by then
its aroma replaced
by the sea and the moon
the contents succumbed to the same
awash and long forgotten
little by little we straighten out
the nails as delicately as possible
the captain in his makeshift quarters
working on his latest designs
to finally free our minds
december two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
how are we to keep track
of lives lost to the night
didn’t I see you inspecting
tomatoes at the farmers market
some sundays ago
donning floppy hat and
full moon sunglasses
a giddyup in your step
and smile on your face
the city is slowly replacing
all the streetlamps downtown
as if there’s nothing
better to do with property taxes
or maybe it’s a grander scheme
to keep the citizenry distracted
from what’s really happening
all around us
I heard they said thirteen
hail marys in your honor
before mixing a bowl
of your favorite cherry red drink
singing and dancing well past sundown
the evening eventually coming
to a complete stop
after some purse thief made off
with your daughters’ identities
december two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
by the time I reached twenty-one
I had nearly died two or three times
but not once did I ask
is that all there is
now that I think of it
three times is probably an
understated calculation
and truth be told
I was shot dead
four or five times by danny burke
back in the summer of sixty-nine
each time resurrected by
cigarette-smoking and pie-eating
self-trained teenage witches
it’s funny what you remember
when reworking your
obituary [from memory]
for the seventh or eighth time
december two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
there is magic in the air
electrical and elusive
like a razor thin damsel’s wing
all is quiet in the inner mind
perfect conditions
to welcome and learn the
universal language of appreciation
what can’t be found here
that doesn’t exist above or beyond
whether beneath the frost
or high above the treetops
where angels still sing
december two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I know I should call but what else do I do
but reheat green tea via microwave
and write down excuses why I should not
When I was a child life was not complicated
and creativity was nothing but second nature
but today I drink my warmish tea
and overthink just about everything
orchestrating different outcomes to past events
such as the hanging of Judas Iscariot
or the beheading of Mary Queen of Scots
Today my smartphone is my only companion
muted and turned over on the arm of the chair
vibrating every now and again
a constant reminder I should probably call
december two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I can’t see my own face but I’m sure
it’s a shade of rose-colored red
winter wind and powerless sun
making my blue eyes even bluer
my heavy heart undeterred
I cry for no reason and wipe away
the cold tears with my coat sleeve
walking toward the water calmly
discarding broken promises
replacing them with anticipation
If I were to name the gods of the sky
I would choose this place in time
where the river meets the moon
and I alone can touch the stars
by simply reaching out my hand
december two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the skywalk system
takes me anywhere I need to go
but eventually I end up exactly
where I started
and I stop and wonder why
down below real people
walk city streets
hustling against the grain
fighting corruption & congestion
and extreme temperatures
somehow at peace
with the uncertainty it brings
december two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
listen carefully there is a bird
warbling from the moon
how she got there is anyone’s guess
is she yellow or is she red or blue
plump or thin or somewhere in between
can you tell by listening carefully
to the tenor of her fiddle
there is a feel to her presence
sublime and pleasantly inviting
when will the world stop spinning
and listen carefully to her message
december two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
let’s have some fun tonight
a motto that never grows old
another sinister third shift
sitting comfortably on the recliner
fingers limber and dancing
across the touch keyboard
searching for gold underground
it’s just a matter of time
some lockboxes are easier
to jimmy open than others
while barred windows need only
combination taps to slip right past
and those secret backdoors
once found are virtually accessible
no need for ropes or ladders or plastic
just a quick letting in & out
before escaping into the night
december two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
days have passed since the poor bird
was knifed a hundred different times
its remains divvied up amongst the guests
dished into disposable containers
never to be seen again
days have passed yet reminders remain
sights and sounds and lingering smells
laughter and tears and silence
talk of getting back together
a wishbone hanging on a branch
december two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I lost you to the night so many moons ago
metallic ship sailing off into the red sky
escorted by a company of single-winged fighters
your telepathic thoughts immediately
traveled through the dynamically charged lines
sending assuring words of an imminent rescue
how I wanted to believe in such promises
unknowing if it was really you on the other end
or simply a trick of my ever-complicated mind
of course neither you nor the mother ship
ever again broke through the thin atmospheric shield
unchanged and mysteriously crimson to this day
december two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
lightning strikes more than twice
opening the night sky
and though nobody is looking
nothing will ever be the same
oh how many times will you
have seen this show
wiping tears away from your eyes
saying never in a million chances
will lightning ever strike twice again
november two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I’ve told this story so many times
though hesitant to put in writing
at least not until your passing
you’ve never felt my pain
having given up on some purpose
at least since I was born
there are no torches passing
no lives flashing before your eyes
only stars slowly dying
I know you’ve seen them falling
faster than a blink of an eye
and I wonder when I’ll write again
november two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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