i road my bike around the city
because i had nothing better
to do. i freed my mind and told
myself i could do this
even at my advanced age.
getting out of the valley was a bitch
but i shifted into the lowest gear
and pretended i was walking
down a flattened hill.
by the time i reached the river
i gave my bicycle to a little boy
and took a taxi home.
june two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
The Feathered Serpent
ruled land and sky
a supernatural deity
worshiped for his duality
When the Fourth Sun
perished in the flood
he traveled deep
beneath the Earth
created a Fifth World
by espousing his own blood
through self-inflicted wounds
to transfuse the bones
of the living dead
june two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the flight of the single line kite
dressed in fire engine red
with hawk like eyes
is somewhat controlled
by slow tugs
and sharp yanks
tactfully waiting
for a cyclonic burst
to blast it toward the enemy
rearing its cunning sharp blade
may two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I spied a creature in the garden,
Its ugly legs and furry body
Not fooling anyone; its soundless
Maneuvers and cunning eyes
Giving me total recall
Of so many cowards.
After an unsettling night of rest,
I found myself in the garden,
Inspecting the damage the varmint
Had done: the imprints and droppings,
Stolen leaves and cigarette butts.
The son-of-a-bitch even etched
The emoticon semicolon pee
Right in the dirt!
For nights I scoured the web,
Matching footprints and scents
That plagued so many others,
Narrowing it down to a few
Who could be so clever,
Who could sneak into the house
And take sips of hummingbird nectar
Stored in the refrigerator door;
Help himself to a bottle of Bud.
What a scarecrow he would make
Once bagged and properly dressed;
What a lesson he could teach
His pathetic relations when impaled
So prominently between the lettuce
And purple phlox, the snide smile
Remaining on his face.
two thousand nine
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
The morning arrived
as it always does
a soft rain falling out back
giving the apples
a special gloss
once the shower
segued to sunshine.
By early afternoon
children would arrive
to climb and pick the fruit
and patiently wait
as the owner of the tree
transformed them
into a cobbler.
With bellies full
the little ones ran off
the scent of the kitchen
following them
reminding the baker
her own precious ones
were late for supper.
may two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I found her by accident
on Craigslist
while searching
for nothing in particular
her services strangely inviting
for anyone wishing
to know themselves better.
She called herself Divine
a woman of sight
gifted at birth
to interpret visions and dreams
and planetary transits
offering clarity and belief
for someone just like me.
Destined to adore her
every word
I found myself
trusting the impossible
as she lay her hands on mine
leading me further inside
her mystical crystal ball.
may two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
i’m itching to get you out
on the county roads
with the top down
speeding and laughing
across two counties
weaving our way
toward the trout stream
marked on the map
alive in our dreams
may two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
The sow was insane
doing what she did
to the little girl
while six piglets
stood by her side.
Given a public defender
the pig was dressed
in man’s clothes
and escorted
to the courthouse.
Witness after witness
described the horror
in which the animal
tore into the child
for no good reason.
In her defense
the accused cried
on the witness stand
as her six piglets
suckled away.
Quick justice found
the defendant guilty
sentenced to hang
in the city square
on the taxpayer’s dime.
may two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
Based on a true story.
For more information google “1386 pig hanging”
clouds darkened
the evening sky
as crickets
blanketed the field
the migration
has already begun
nuclear winter
is near
may two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
four blue spruces
form a boundary
along the south side
at the base of the hill
a splendid reminder
of all that is good
by the start of summer
their needles turn brown
prematuring dying
and likely affected
by the great imitator
lurking in the wood
may two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the dogs barking
three doors down
at two in the morning
entered my dreams
and made my night
slightly uncomfortable
in the morning
i brewed coffee
turned on the television
only to see myself
getting handcuffed
listening to miranda
may two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
he always prepared
dinner for two
even though she had left him
without a goodbye
it was nice to slow down
and smile again
reminisce about how grand
yesterday was
every time he mentioned
a sunday picnic
she would make an excuse
and retire to her room
may two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
She invites me
into the jacuzzi
honestly cautions
her tongue is sassy
and sensual
her maturity disguised
by callow eyes
that sparkle intimately
and stab mercilessly
She cries out
almost laughingly
for dry martinis
a twist and an olive
rockless and salty
the goblet raises
to toast my induction
into the hot bath
promising to erase the lines
etched on my face
nineteen ninety-six
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
We used to get in the car and drive Northeast
to Bellevue in Jackson County,
to a place where prehistoric Woodland Indians once roamed;
where Blackhawk himself used to call home.
Nearing the outskirts of town we wended along
the side of a hill on a gravel road,
the valley below offering pastures and wild fields
in between the meandering Little Mill.
We always ventured all the way into town first
to the Mississippi River,
where Dad would fill up with gas and buy donuts,
live bait, and a pack of cigarettes.
It was then we would run across the busy street
to the green steel fence rail,
look out over the Mighty Mississippi, count the sails
dotted up and down the river.
There was plenty of fish to catch in the river
Dad always pontificated,
but Little Mill offered what the Mississippi could not:
Rainbow Trout and isolation.
may two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
Fire fighting aircraft
turn their bellies upward
as they veer away
from the blaze below
their waterbombs
struggling to penetrate
the conflagration
set off days ago
by a strike
from the sky
blasting the Windy City
with wicked veracity
turning human ingenuity
into a flattening incinerator
filled with rubber
and concrete
steel and humanity
stirring dead souls
into vague memories
of eighteen seventy-one
october, two thousand eleven
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
Fast asleep by midmorning
I dream of never waking
of sailing past an open sea
My shell is like a water vessel
blending into the horizon
melting into a fiery sun
Transforming into nature
I stay awake forever
casting hope into a dark night
april two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 