the heart quickens
& eyes sharpen
arms & legs working precisely
the mind machine-like
& built for lightspeed
racing through darkness
becoming forever new
april two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
they’ve been planting seeds
in the clouds
how can you not see the tulips
in the sky
as plain as day
in any color imaginable
rainbows in mars do no exist
at least not yet on record
the rain in spain
hasn’t been the same
for a number of decades & counting
and the oceans
whether here on earth
or any watery exoplanet
how much plastic
can they possibly consume
april two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
a while back
my father called me
seven times in two days
presenting me with
the very same question
twenty-seven years
his younger
my long-term memory
remains (seemingly) in
pristine condition
—but what will come of me
in the short-term
eludes me
that is until the next call
april two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the recipe calls for two tablespoons
of distilled white vinegar
but if apple cider is all you got
then that will have to do
but be sure to reference the disclaimer
barely visible below
april two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the bridge was made of wood & stone
admired by the fauna of the day
construction lasting from
equinox to equinox
having lost the lives of many
beneath the golden span
stories evolved generationally
legends of dragons & trolls & billy goats
[taking their turn over time]
preserving all lost souls buried there
april two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
night is falling
suspended light dancing
in the sultry air
atop the tall white oaks
blackbirds gather noisily
chattering like subdued maniacs
devising something spectacular
in their mind
there is no disk that is the sun
having been stolen by sorcerers
a wildfire left in its wake
spreading horizontally
like firefighters
the blackbirds take flight
extinguishing all thought as their
collective call fades like a waning siren
consumed by an inevitable destruction
that is illusory at best
april two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
a five-pointed star fell from the sky
landing in a field behind a row of houses
upon closer examination
it was made out of wood
it smelled like cedar
a wood that never dies
after crashing to the ground
it had busted in three places
one said we can piece it together
using glue & screws
another said and then we can hoist it
back into the sky using chains & pulleys
and a third agreed and ran with purpose
to fetch the necessary supplies
to repair the wounded star
april two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I got mustard on my keyboard
and like most things from my past
I find myself swiping
& starting over again
the potato salad could use
a little more mustard
I remember telling myself post facto
enjoying a glass of vienna lager
in the parlor
I wasn’t expecting company
but someone let them in
(one after the other)
and next thing I knew
my beer was nearly gone
this wasn’t a poetry workshop
but rather ideas that fly in the face
of artistic merit
like passing the bucket hat
from one armchair critic to the next
april two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
she said I saw you
flirting with death the other day
and where was that I replied
fairly certain she had me confused
with some other restless heart
oh I don’t know she went on to say
it may have been at the tar pits
or was it somewhere inside the marsh
I haven’t been spelunking
or tangling with gators of late
though perhaps you’ve been devising ways
to infiltrate my fearless dreams
april two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
in a deep trance
I was asked what I could see
and I replied
I could see it all
the beginning
and the middle
and the end
in a deep trance
I was asked what exactly
is the end
and I replied
the end is like being alone
inside a boat built for two
floating down the river allusion
april two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
strange happenings
looming in the air
you can taste it
dark chocolate no
peanut butter no
sulphuric acid
well maybe it’s always changing
burning your eyes
your skin
the lower chamber of your heart
a festering sore feels like a wasp
crawling on the back of your neck
you wrap a scarf around it
it’s summertime
you look around
what was once familiar is now alien
[inside the dream]
you keep telling yourself
to wake up already
another hour goes by
april two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
there is a certain silence
beneath the noise
buzzing inside my brain
to get there is a long
complicated journey
something like one step forward
and two steps back
eventually you’ll be young
once again
where silence doesn’t exist
and the noise
was something you sought
from the time you rose from the dead
it is never definable
and if it ever was
you would never be able
to give it any kind of justice
april two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
it was showtime in no time
james taylor playing in the background
strumming on an old guitar
in the back room
sounds beautifully muffled
a single rose rising out of a tall pilsner glass
a passerby unable to keep her eyes
off of the blue & the black
the music is everywhere
and if you’re alive but don’t hear it
there is little need to worry
in just a matter of time you will
april two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
downsizing
minimizing space
something deemed necessary
to complement my remaining days
house & car traded in for cash
found an efficiency
in a downtown tower
a room w/a singular view
the river
an oak tree
aliens passing by
now you see me
again you don’t
a game played from dusk till dawn
& in between
almost anything goes
all of it virtually unforeseen
april two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
mostly a quiet neighborhood
complete with a cat colony
and an underground network
of russian-speaking moles
I’d been here for years
over two decades to be imprecise
come to learn change
doesn’t necessarily taste any better
with a grain of salt
or dash of tabasco
one year the winds swept
most of the trees away
another canoes & kayaks
became the prevalent mode
of transportation
in one corner of the garage
laid out plans for jet propulsion
& kitty-corner from there
a pair of unrepaired angel wings
april two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
and when the sun becomes
barely visible in the west
and as the winds die down
and cirrus clouds turn deep blue
a cacophony of bird calls
usher in the indefinable dusk
april two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 