you forgot to tell me
where you had gone
so I wandered into the night
dreaming I would find you
somewhere safe
the night never ended
neither did the dream
of finding you
beyond the treetops
as an infinite light
july two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I merge onto route one
around midnight
a cup of coffee
shaking in my hand
another placed
in the holder
in the back seat
my darling exhales angrily
pleading with baby
and begging the lord
to give us more time
I race past the limit
chasing the new moon
and hugging the white line
laughing at the thought
I’m a daddy any minute
july two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
a ton of things need fixing
around here
but i choose to watch the cubs
probably lose another game
and hop on the internet
do some poking around
tweet a few hashtags
it’s not like the yard doesn’t
get mowed
or the toilet stays broke
it’s just that the list is endless
and sometimes it’s more fun
to wonder who’ll get it all done
once my jig is up
july two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
caught on thin ice
i suddenly became lost
like a runaway kite
my cheeks busting
eyes leery yet fearless
of the insane cracks
daring my bladed soles
to never stop flying
july two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
There’s something about this coffee,
I said, speaking to the cat,
knowing she knew exactly what I meant
because she too drinks the same water
from this dated kitchen.
There’s nothing right about this place,
it seems to have lost
the intimacy it once had.
Instead of doing anything about it
I’m just going to drink
this lousy cup of coffee
and wonder where the angels went.
july two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
What goes on down here sometimes doesn’t make sense;
seems we’re all running around doing a bunch of nothing,
like buying Gold or picking up a 30 pack on the way home.
Just about everyone’s got an agenda these days;
some like to push theirs where they don’t belong,
others keep them propped to their ear when behind the wheel,
while the silent majority keep it to themselves
like it’s some big secret.
Everything is so plugged in that when the electricity fails
chains of events lead to even bigger headlines
such as “Man loses dog.”
Now that we number seven billion it’s high time
we call back Einstein, maybe even Darwin,
ask them to figure out how to get out of this mess
before something really serious happens.
july two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
i’m borrowing this rock
i keep in my pocket
uncovered years ago
when starting the garden
i washed it off
in the birdbath
dirtying the water
and giving it new life
for however long i can
july two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I stayed under the radar so many years
battling wired demons in cyber alleyways
using keystroke shortcuts and ingenuity
to seek and destroy with a sword I call Sam.
Scaling the mountainous leaderboards
didn’t happen overnight but after a while
double agents offered me synthetic cocktails
and promises of money, women and fame.
When uncovering an unlocked window
to the castle of a fabled power broker
my newfound friends soon followed me
into the compromised vault of treasure.
Once inside my instincts sensed betrayal
and I transformed my key into Sam
the two of us eliminating the inferior threats
escaping with intentions of retiring this time.
july two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
Exactly one hour before the game
the young player leaves his mother
for the solitude of his bedroom
on a late Saturday morning.
Closing the door behind him
he walks past prior year trophies
of Louisville sluggers atop silver bases
spanning across the dresser.
His lucky number seven uniform
lies across the double bed
nearly spotless except for stains
detergents will never call out.
Transforming himself bit by bit
from stirrups and pants to jersey and cap
his mind centers on catch and throw
on aluminum bat ripping cowhide.
june two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
wishes will always live
in so many forms
health, happiness and wealth
something as grand
as world peace
or refreshing
as a family in harmony
strangely beautiful words
wish to find true colors
worthy of painting
a world beyond tomorrow
june two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
The garden beds never existed
twenty years ago where a sloping
hill begged to be cut into by an old man
in a bobcat, while younger men
With shovels and levels laid stone blocks
across the yard with precision
and speed, like a kid building
a lego wall for the umpteenth time.
As youngsters we ran carefully through
the new garden, leaping on one stone
circle after another placed in no
particular pattern by my father,
While in between young flowering plants
and herbs and shrubs learned
to adapt and prosper in the rich soil.
Season after season my father
Experimented in the garden,
purchasing deer resistant perennials
from the nursery, using his spade
to plant the new and rearrange
The old, pruning in the Spring
and deadheading in the fall,
raising them as if they were
his second set of children.
In midsummer we visit with our own
little ones who love to hop through
the fully mature garden, abloom
in shades of red and green,
Yellow and purple, blue and orange,
with barely enough room
for anything new, still babied
by the man who raised them so strong.
june two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
The insects inside you bore away
for decades, feasting on your tasty
wood as if it were a never ending meal.
Despite the damage you continued
to morph by extending your roots
and creating more rings,
rising above the majestic blue spruces,
your branches and prolific leaves
scrubbing the air around you.
While I always considered your species
a wild and ugly member of the copse,
I never imagined that on the inside
you were eaten alive by starving parasites
hell bent on sending you tumbling down.
june two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
Along the riverwalk my soul took turns
it had never taken before. The landscape
of skin and fowl and vegetation introduced
a program of thoughts of unfamiliarity
that encouraged oral and penless poetry.
The language inspired Latino rhythms,
challenged me to find words similar
to cerveza and como se dice. And, as my
tennis-shoed feet encountered both concrete
and water, I almost believed I had lived
here before with some sort of importance.
I saw the Alamo but did not enter–
it was aboveground and therefore off limits.
No matter what the reason, I stayed below
and pretended to exist beyond belief.
nineteen ninety-nine
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I found your mirror
when looking for something
in the walk-in closet,
the oval, black-framed one
with the ivory handle.
A lightning bolt crack
shot down from top
to bottom, carving my face
with a sharp knife
misplaced years ago.
june two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
i had taken this road
so many times
in my german sportscar
from highway thirteen
to one fifty-one
just as the sun played
peekaboo with the rolling hills
memory and instinct
found me banking
the wide curves and picking up
speed into the straightways
my mind free
from the distractions
of yesterday’s troubles
slowing into the next
historic cottage
i spotted a freshly paved lane
heading towards the valley’s bluff
my machine fast
flying straight off the edge
into a waking paralysis
june two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
She blew me a kiss
and I snatched it
out of thin air
– like I always do
told her if only
it wasn’t the last one
I’d be a billionaire
june two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 