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poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “Poetry”

her dark secret


stay away from him
is all they said
as if to say he is
not well

a vague warning
from a small town
without a purpose
other than to cast
shadows
where there are none

she came from the city
and found him
awkward & intriguing
though at times behind
the boathouse
never felt more alive

there are no
chronological orders
to follow in this
sordid affair
her presence somehow
disturbing time
their disappearance
to this day
unexplained





april two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

mining for peace


afraid of silence
we anticipate the next explosion

while some mine for any kind
of real or virtual metal
we are mining for peace
located one & two stories
beneath the streets

in such places one learns
to strategize carefully
and breathe shallowly

every sleepless night
but a simple reminder
never to forget
the art of reciprocation





april two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

missing the ocean & the moon


out of nowhere a cat cries
and a squall comes to light
sudden hail & rainfall
winds sweeping away
the sweet sunshine

the whole town
drowned in alcohol
the news reporters unable
to get the story right
misunderstanding
the underlying premise
how the good graces would
have them flower again





april two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

a delicate genius


I’m not interested
in long goodbyes
they’re much too messy
if you know what I mean

a quick break
isn’t that the ticket
see you later alligator
sayonara sucker
adios amiga
you get the gist of it

one minute you’re the life
of the party
the next shuffle-boarding
at the assisted living addition
adjacent to the castle
the queen herself coming
to visit every third tuesday

but you yes you
you’re too busy or maybe
dealing with you own
misremembering
leaving me in the conservatory
light on my feet
perhaps levitating
tugging but not plucking
the delicate petals





april two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

sorrowful pilgrimage


it was the day after
our bones tattered & torn
knowing not if we were
dead of alive

overnight the crows
became nocturnal
as if the poles had reversed
after a century
of fluctuating

they had become
our field guide
and though we asked
they wouldn’t say if we were
dead or alive

time passed as if
in reverse
each lifeless town we reached
showed no sign of
blood or skin or bone

wildflowers grew by the roadside
we picked them
we put them to our noses
but to no avail

the crows said it was okay to eat them

and so we did

as we traveled further
back in time
the crows became
eerily quiet
in the dead of night

and we knew not if we were
dead or alive





april two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

post winter volunteer


an uninvited guest
how can there be such a thing
a girl of color no less
her face velvety & somewhere
between blue & violet
the color of radiance trapped
inside her eyes
as if she was born yesterday





april two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

trapdoor


listen up there’s
a new world order
brewing

in the kitchen
fm radio blaring
emergency
broadcast signal

everywhere you go
something’s
missing
a sock
a mitten
a cherished memory
taken away
by dream thieves

listen up
hut two three four
we’ve made it official
& we’re doing it in style
stumbling headlong
through the newly
constructed
trapdoor





april two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

inside Putin’s pockets


they arrived by boat
and once docked
the boat imploded

was it a staged event
or a sad accident
rumors circulating

the number of deaths
underreported due to
understaffing
the pandemic
the supply chain
you name it

those who made it
were no longer
themselves
(no longer boat people)
merely survivors
relearning how to live
(and let live)
on foreign soil





april two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

loved to death


isn’t it always a matter of time
before the next big thing
whether cutting edge or horrific
the wait is far from long

isn’t it wild how a glorious idea
can be conjured in solitude
and distributed worldwide
by way of an invisible wire

isn’t it a crazy kind of love
that hits you smack in the face
when looking the other way
leaving you breathless





april two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

going in for the kill


there were only three of us
but we managed to make a sound
unlike any other birdsong

we hung out in alder trees
creek & trail fifty feet below
passing along the binoculars
spying on pretend prey

diving headlong & swooping
living & dying in a precise moment
as if in an endless dream





april two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

disturbing the peace after midnight


listening to rock on the internet
a continuous stream
of nostalgia mixed in between
modern marketing
the riffs & the screaming
chimpanzees banging on their bangos
dirty laundry coming out clean
by way of tide
the whole house shaking
when the decibels are cranked
as high as they can possibly go





april two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

all my friends


I see them all the time
flashbacks like flipbooks
some of them
are stick people
many of them dead

a name will appear out of
nowhere (or thin air)
like a rabbit out of a hat
I’m like a mad scientist
screaming Eureka
in this makeshift laboratory

what’s left loves to hold
a grudge against me
for things said or done
but especially for reasons
incomprehensible





april two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

building an ark from scratch


it’s late evening
& I’ve not yet turned
a page

a sheet of paper
blank or lined

a young male servant
or messenger
delivering bad news
by way of wise men

               *

the dam is doomed to fail
or so the story goes
a flood of words deluging
on a sheet of ice
a great sea frozen
over time
is sure to thaw

sun falls further into the sea
the sea becoming
warmer
over generational time

               *

for no apparent reason
someone who has never set sail
begins building an ark from scratch





april two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

finding out sooner than later


sure you can start all over again
but it will have to be in a new body


which do you prefer this time
tall & dark & handsome
athletic or wirey or robust
perhaps a shy woman
putting to song the saddest
poetry ever written

sure you can start all over again
but you may not remember
the life you left behind

or perhaps you’d like to come back
with a certain kind of awareness
the god of rebirth giving you clues
of who you once were

and when you become of age
the new you suddenly
becomes obsessed
peeling back layer upon layer
like a genealogist
that proverbial onion having you
burning candles at both ends

scouring the information superhighway
soon you’ll face your next demise





april two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

I wonder about her


on an early sunday morning
at a nightclub downtown
two are dead & ten wounded

the police chief proclaims
it’s a peaceful city

but this is the twenty-first century
& anything is possible

the flattening of architecture
            the eradication of human groups
the barbarity         of technology
      the weaponization of
                                                outer space
hours later
church bells ring loud in all
the downtown churches
huge doors opening & shutting
the fat lady singing from the balcony

yellow tape & chalk outlines
I look & listen for some sort of sign
and wonder about her





april two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Recalling the Day I Died


I’ve become dizzied

    ~ spinning faster than a top
or something known as a whirling dervish

struggling to recall the day’s events
I’ve given up on the present

there is much digging going on

          in the garden

                it is springtime

& the commotion is overwhelming

            the year nineteen fourteen
the last time I was alive





april two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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