the daffodil knows
everything about the first & last
the beginning of the end
of eternal spring
what is not written
holds steady like stasis
handed down by way of mouth
word for word for word
underground stories
are the most dangerous
everchanging
& subversively challenging
the status quo
march two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
whose machination is this
capable & probably taking out
the dark prince
when it’s all over
nostradamus will be
prognosticating again
this time from mars
resurrected & freely roving
by way of artificial intelligence
the wars will never end (on earth)
neither on the ground nor in the seas
not in any airspace
either here or in outer space
march two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
paranoia is a dangerous thing
unpredictable & delirious
like a deadly spider in a dream
there are no photographs to be kept
either having been burned
or lost to the forest
taproots turning them into new
memories for the dead
fear the dark knight
the rider of your subconscious
galloping full speed in the darkness
consumed by the fog of war
& willing to die by the sword
march two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
it is in between seasons
a mixture of worn out colors
making the ground & sky
appear as an open sea
a baby’s cry can be heard
from within
a sure sign that someone
is coming back to life
not long ago I could behold
or perceive your breath
in the open air or beyond
my wildest imagination
february two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
in the kitchen I keep a jar filled with words
but for the past few days it’s been empty
and I can’t seem to do the math
to have it refilled again
though he’s not been seen for days
I’ve been told curiosity (the cat) is alive & well
hanging out on the west side
maybe he’s the reason things are off-kilter
and if only he’d return
the world would simply right itself
february two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
burning down the forest
doesn’t seem like the right thing to do
whether in times of peace or war
it’s not like you can make carbon copies
of hundreds of thousands of trees
replacing them within a generation or two
after having the enemy succumbed to flames
it’s not like you can stitch & sew time
making it nineteen ninety-nine all over again
before the world became more complicated
than la niña or an impossible crossword
ever since the first shots were fired
blackbirds continue to gather at the border
in numbers innumerable
patiently waiting for all hell to break loose
february two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
where has the queen gone
now that war has broken out
does she dare show her face
in person let alone the air waves
or will she remain in the shadows
laying low like a commoner
they say the opposing forces
are invisible like the wind
moving in & out of the kingdom
like a knight without a country
picking & choosing allegiances
one war-torn city at a time
february two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
how many of them are us
born without a homeland
left to find your own identity
displacement is not new
go ask any dinosaur
having survived the initial blast
news of a madman’s war
infiltrates the airwaves
something old is new again
the house down the street
caught fire overnight
will probably take a year to repair
I look out the bay window
counting my blessings
adding peanut butter to the list
february two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the little farm girl
bespectacled
& tanned from the summer sun
walked out of the barn
chicken wire & snips in hand
skipped across the way
and entered the house
by way of the kitchen door
brushing back her yellow
tangled hair with the palms
of her hands
she sat at the kitchen table
working feverishly
as she shaped the wire
into a three dimensional heart
slightly smaller than her head
she tore strips of newspaper
and dipped them into
a flour-based paste she’d learned
to make at school
and speedily & completely covered
her hollowed out heart
she left it to dry on the window sill
whistling while cleaning up
the mess she had made
anxious to take it back into the barn
where she would paint it
the color purple
february two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the lines are infectious
now the whole world is at a standstill
the little one tested positive
waiting on a number to be called
to mask or not to mask
that has become the question
bad actors reciting shakespeare
contradicting the next conspiracy
there are so many open seats
at this year’s final table
be prepared to answer yes or no
when they call your number
february two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
it’s a balancing act
most people take for granted
like riding a bicycle
or reciting the pledge of allegiance
invisible forces
come & go like visible drive-bys
bullets replaced by microwaves
locked & loaded & fired
victims incapacitated
by way of an inner blasting
that is nearly indiscernible
conspiracy theories
run rampant around the west wing
the latest front line without a guard post
a virtual war zone
the enemy undefined
february two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
you can’t keep them in chains
but sometimes that’s exactly
how they feel
waltzing through fields
or transcending down a river
fed into a never-ending story
they see each other perfectly
having shed their imperfections
here and there
gathering among the gathered
accepting the incoming storm
as if they are trapped within
february two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I spent hours working on my short game
but it just wasn’t panning out
I’d grown so fast in such a short period of time
there was nothing left to do
but start all over again
I spent less time on my end game
& invested whatever energies I could muster
back into non-fungible tokens
from there anything was possible
including the outside chance
of accumulating assets
& oh yes taking them with me
february two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
A one two three
getting going again
stomping our feet
fingers snapping
embedded within claps
Delores’ bluesy voice
bringing it back home
february two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
a long procession
crossing the border
controlled remotely
fourteen hundred
kilometers away
this is anything but
a ticker tape parade
more like a war of wills
not a single shot fired
in the map room
a series of switches
dictate who may live
& what must go
the rest of the world
continues to suffer
from cyberattacks
oblivious to reality
& blinded by the light
february two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
in the beginning
it seemed we swept
each other off our feet
but that was never the case
and only you knew it
you taught me how to
make the finest white lines
to laugh & cry
while making love
most likely followed
by hibiscus tea
& hash-laced brownies
for days on end I’d be left alone
some perishables in the panty
& tepid water on tap
all windows & doors
locked from the outside
as long as you were gone
the medicine cabinet
remained empty
& slowly I would find myself
crawling out of this shell
you selfishly built for me
february two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 