where did you go
I thought we were talking
about albinos
or more specifically
the great white sperm whale
I was telling you
after nearly 200 pages
nothing much had breached the surface
and then all of a sudden
you were gone
april two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
a red mcintosh
kitchen knife & cutting board
a recipe for blood on the horizon
like the summer sun
bleeding into the sea
knowing nothing can be done
in stopping
the impending happening
april two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
children are born
with war in their DNA
their little bones recycled
from recent burial grounds
reconstructed by an invisible god
trying to get it right
but whatever lessons there might be
do not stick to anything
especially to a child’s DNA
april two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
every sunday I reboot the modem
kicking out the demons
mired inside my wired mind
the sun didn’t rise again
tired eyes blinking thru the haze
right hand still free of pain
march two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
there I go again
off into the unknown
can’t you see me waving goodbye
way up high in the sky
my arms like supersonic wings
folded behind my shoulders
my legs tucked inside the fuselage
on my way to the moon
to spend a night or two
a brief interlude before moving on
march two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
sometimes they go crazy
for many good reasons
sometimes they rise & fall
faster than a new york minute
but sometimes they go country
none other than to prove
that by tweaking the attitude
just about anything
can be done
march two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
so I was on the mound
for the very first time
wearing dodger blue
having a stare down contest
with the three-legged catcher
sixty feet south of me
he kept calling for fastballs
but all I could deliver
were sliders or spitballs
all impossible to hit
most likely because
my fingers were on fire
march two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the trees were laughing
at the incredulous wind
slender fingerlike branches
bending down to the water’s edge
the trees were pleading
to the impossible waters
drowning vulnerable roots
slowly rising from trunk to canopy
the trees were dying
all for the sake of change
self-fulfilling to some extent
but certainly never self-imposed
march two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
there used to be a park there
look at it now
not a single tree stands
the 2.5 acres transitioned
into a living breathing pancake
leveled to the ground
by the stroke of a wand
turning past reality into a
futuristic burial ground
march two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
why do you feel this way
sister of the angels
after fleeing from the crowd
and back to the apparent safety
of the underground
what madness is your method
looking the other way
second guessing your beliefs
escaping all on your own
not once looking back
for those left behind
trapped inside the crosshairs
who will lead the charge
delivering them to safety
now that you remain at large
march two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I’ve been gathering stones and such
for as long as I can remember
I put them into mason jars
store them in the vacated wine cellar
If I can’t figure out what to do with them all
I’m sure someday someone else will
march two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
with a nod to Chad Bennett
They changed the lyrics to the National Anthem.
The gardener mistakes a weed for a flower.
A little boy stands on a stool & asks to lick the beaters.
Downtown the pigeons defecate on the owl decoys.
Most everyone doesn’t know Miss America’s name.
All the flights to Moscow have been canceled.
Many believe The Beatles will one day reunite.
The name Mary Jane is making a major comeback.
Another rocket is launched into outer space.
The doctor tells the patient her cancer is receding.
Nobody wept at his funeral.
march two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
sorry JFK
but that think not thing
seems to have been permanently
buried in the past
replaced by old-school selfishness
—something you thought worthy
to metamorphose into civility
though the idea strikes a chord
today’s political reality
remains a dysfunctional fiasco
—something the coming of age
generations may inherently relate to
redefining indifference
if you know what I mean
march two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
everything needs to be redone
a sigh escapes
a tangled mess
the kitchen sink to be replaced
ceramic or steel or granite
she just can’t decide
roses or tulips
the decision hangs
unwanted lilies having taken over
a neglected garden
the rusted shovel stuck in the tundra
a winter’s white flag
paint flaking off the wooden handle
a silent cry for spring’s embrace
dining room table
wounded & unbalanced
missing a leg
the california king a watery betrayal
soaks dreams in its silent leak
even the man door
guardian of the garage
stands defiant w/its broken latch
they’ll get right on it
but a hollow refrain
echoing throughout the cluttered day
but as for now the list remains
a silent weight
a weary maze
march two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
before I begin let me
go back up to the very beginning
where weapons of war
were as rudimentary
as the very act of rape
how can you write about hunger
without ever going hungry
how can you write about death
without first dying
there is no poetic justice
in these once-upon-streets
forever bustling with a sensation
you can no longer describe
march two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
a packed downtown
another Friday night
business as usual
as long as you remain
on the big fat streets
that is inside so-called
boundaries
neon lights abound
the white lights of the theater
the jumbotron flashing outside the
magnificent arena
a touch of coolness courtesy
of a slight breeze
here individuals
become the collective
participants in a cosmic party
—and from up above
from the eyes of drones
you may well be more
than just a cog in the system
march two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 