with stained glass wings
the damselfly dances in a realm
of emerald green
where sunlight reflects
low-lying rainbows
the delicate body shimmers
a kaleidoscope of colors
performing dazzling twirls
and pirouettes
like a natural ballerina
feeding along the stream
effortlessly at ease & in balance
it skims the water’s surface
barely whispering into
the fading twilight
november two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
lies & deceit
were coded into our DNA
regardless of race or religion
or location on this planet
armies are built
in such ways
the manipulation of ordinary men
for the good of the order
for the safety of a people
repetition is but an iteration
of the entire repertoire
a treasure chest of ammunition
a bag full of tricks
a secret weapon behind the curtain
the last mile
is the bloodiest
a necessary evil if you will
the final confrontation ushering in
an empire of the third kind
november two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
in my twenties at university
my habits were more pronounced
than today—quite like my memory
but nonetheless
I was instantly
taken back there
involuntarily
I guess I got to thinking about
the title of this poem while listening
to the lyrics of an alt-rock song
streaming from my car speakers
—afterwards becoming stuck in my
head like a heartache
from there I found myself
back in iowa city
seated at a second floor bar
[maybe] directly above the airliner
the premises about the size
of four boxing rings
—the staircase in the center
vertically challenging
the details are sketchy at best
but there were nunchucks
& a blade involved
one combatant a karate extraordinaire
the other a cross between
batman & edward scissorhands
november two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reservedeyes and rise above
to understand the language
is to know how the stream
becomes a river
to be a flower you must first
become a pod and a seed
learn to feed off the earth
without sunlight
the rain is stored inside stone
buried & dug up & buried again
alive like human remains
to fly is to study the wings
of bird & insect & angel
listen to their mechanisms
—close your eyes and rise above
november two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
there were six of us
maybe seven
seated in the dining room
my grandmother (born in belgium
& someone I’ve never met)
occupying the head
it was a hearty meal
a meat & potatoes kind of deal
homemade bread
fresh fruit & veggies
a little dog
sitting on someone’s lap
not sure my exact age
but I was sporting a red cap
w/a minimal bill
and I remember her telling me
(in her broken english)
it has no place at her table
november two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
rhyme & meter fail me
as I reach for words [like a
kite] caught up in a tree
there is no pattern to follow
no cut & paste
or rinse & repeat
only a faint premonition
stirring within the leaves
and there at the base
sits a collection basket
haphazardly catching
that which may fall from above
[and to be recycled later]
—the rest around the perimeter
raked into a pile of ideas
october two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I was counting sheep last night
—they were hairless
One by one the infamous shearer
stripped them all bare
the pile of dirty-white wool
growing wider & taller
by the minute
It was exhausting
watching her handiwork
sitting on a stool in the corner
removing each coat in one full swoop
releasing the hyped-up animals
parading across my bed
Come midnight
there was no more room left in the inn
october two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
and she said
we’d never drift apart
not in a million years
and she said
love never leaves the heart
even after death
but if the flowers should fade & wilt
and the angels should fly away
just know I won’t be afraid
as long as you’re near
and she said
there is a place beyond the sun
that never grows old
and she said
it never grows old
october two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
we share an appetite for more
whatever it is give us more
more death & destruction
more peace & prosperity
whatever it is give us more
more legal marijuana
more automatic rifles
more hatred & violence
up & down the boulevard
gives us more hide & go seek
more capture the flag
more taking of hostages
brokering them to the highest bidder
whatever it is we want more of it
more unconditional love
more full moons colored orangish-red
more stars falling from the sky
so that our wishes may never die
october two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
one of hundreds of thousands
dangling precipitously
I am momentarily
a participant of a
greater collective
awe-inspiring to those
who love all the colors
of the third season
destined to be released
as a single solitary flier
slowly drifting downward
governed by the wind & gravity
my eventual resting place
a shallow muddy puddle
on the side of the road
october two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
these buildings don’t belong here
sooner or later they will implode
either by an earthquake
or sworn enemy
it matters not
people will die
it’s an inevitability
no matter the property
no matter the where or the when
it will first come as a dream
and then it will be a reality
streamed online via satellite
archived to be revisited on demand
long after the world
has become a quieter place
october two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
it’s food day
so I call in sick and grab
my rod & reel
walk the five point five miles
to the trout stream
in my pockets
I carry [among other things]
single-serving packets
of mayonnaise & pickle relish
—a couple of hot dog buns
and a swiss army knife
in the tackle box
I have fake worms
and a fake license
red & white bobbers
rainbow spinners & a blue stringer
[among many other things]
at work it’s nearly breaktime
—suddenly one of the bobbers
disappears below the surface
october two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
living & dying in the moment
ongoing battles are fought
within & without
explosions displacing
deluges tempering
matters of the heart
tearing at the mind
there is no place to hide
when living & dying
for today
when intentions
& inevitabilities collide
inside a world of good & evil
neither seeming to prevail
october two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
there is no test at the end
only a brief darkness
followed by a reality that cannot
be explained using words
uttered by mere mortals
as if witnessing the birth of a child
for the very first time
—only this time the child is you
october two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
she told me to make the skies bluer
and the setting sun orangier
I told her I would have to start all over
no you don’t she said
here let me show you
and she took over the canvas
the brushes & the paints
proceeded to turn my mediocre
landscape of sea & sun & clouds
into something beautifully alien
october two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the spirit guides are calling me
but I am unconcerned
—distractions & distrust
embedded in my psyche
pushing me outward (violently)
instead of pulling myself
(effortlessly) inward
I am projected into the mix
multimedia having a blast
playing head games
ancestors on the outside
unable to look in
the single door locked
and boarded in
—every window just the same
october two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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