you did everything you wanted to
for one whole day
later telling yourself it was worth it
after all these years
wee men & women scurry about
in the gardens
measuring the outer perimeters
reporting back home
they say winter is fast approaching
where would we go
if not for the reliability
of time passages
august two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
so much for the twenty-first century
already dead & gone in so
many amazing minds
what at first promised
wine & roses & endless opportunity
quickly spiraled
in slow motion fashion like an
unmanned tunnel boring machine
some fools are following right along
believing their journey
to the center of the earth
will magically alter the course
of human events
august two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
there are plenty of stories yet to tell
won’t you sit down & humor me
won’t you believe in yourself
the storm has come & gone
the rain gauge reset
there are words yet to be recorded
and gates to be repaired
but as you well know
those who rest too much die too soon
just as those speeding recklessly
encounter the same fate
when & where to call a timeout
that appears to be make a difference
for example like that instance
nobody cared for a whole year
august two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
No matter how many times
the story changes
we can never quite make it
out of the woods
Subtle messages
slip through the treeline
by way of sunlight
If we’re lucky we’ll catch
a few more lines
from Snyder or Whitman
or Mary Oliver
And so we listen
with our hearts
& our minds
attempting to capture
that which is given
august two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
she was everything
from start to finish
you name it & it’s done
next door the lights
are low & the sound
is next to nothing
visitors come & go
never for very long
and on occasion
a firefighter or two
might stop by
just to check in
she used to save
lives but like her idol
is unable to save herself
and meanwhile
all the people in her life
rotate in & out
august two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the last of the great cities fell
piecemeal in a matter of minutes
it was the year the music
died for the third time
in all of human history
this must be it
or so said a cult of survivors
having managed to run off with
the whiskey & rye
they followed the stars by night
(and slept by day)
the owl & the red fox & fireflies
becoming their champions
the smell of destruction
gradually faded
from town to town
the only signs of life continuing
to be their own entourage
august two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
there is love & hate
happening on hollywood avenue
I try to stay
on the right side of the street
my dreams keep telling me
everything I’m gonna miss
but I don’t get the half of it
waking up at 2 am to gunshot
pit bulls barking up & down the street
what few truths there are left
(inalienable or otherwise)
ricochet up & down the boulevard
the scorching sun
attempting to eradicate all the lies
baked within
august two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
she shuffles her feet & reaches out
to be touched
suddenly she’s swept onto a wooden floor
repurposed from an early 19th century barn
torn apart by a hungry tornado
thrown onto the earth by an angry god
her hand meets another reaching forward
strong & invisible & pulling her in
light on her feet
her hips rotating counterclockwise
her out-of-body experience repeats
throughout the seasons
a herd of cows standing watch
behind an old wooden fence
repurposed from a late 17th century bridge
august two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
Images replay in your mind
throughout a lifetime
Compared to photographs & recordings
or any other means
detailing what transpires here
only the memory keeps it true
to the original
whether in color or black & white
such unpredictable flashbacks
suddenly appear out of nowhere
Thinking back to a time
doesn’t always do itself justice
just as reaching deep inside
doesn’t always do the trick
oh no sometimes your memory
does on its own
what you can’t possibly control
especially when least expected
august two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
It was just the two of us
and a field of overgrown weeds
an hour after sunup
in the garage
his father had two kinds of sickles
probably handed down
from previous generations
wooden handles restained (how many
times over the years)
sharp as a tack & anxious
to get back to work
and so back to work we went
turning the big field of weeds
into a ball diamond
sickle carving out the dimensions
dual lawn mowers
working out the finer details
measuring ninety feet between the bags
sixty feet from pitching rubber
to home plate
by noon the grapevine
had attracted the best players
from within a ten mile radius
one by one & two by two
(or some other kind of combination)
they arrived by foot or bike
or special envoy
by the time one twenty rolled around
the first pitch was thrown
august two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
it’s impossible to own the night
but tomorrow
is another story
standing there in the peripheral
as if to say
you are not yourself
your current state of mind
disbelieving
that the stars in your future
can ever be washed away
that the man in the box
is someone you’ve never known
august two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
tied to the tracks
the rabbits never had a chance
if the train didn’t do them in
the fire certainly would
rampaging uncontrolled
throughout the wild wild west
they had family
spread throughout the valley
there was a sliver of hope
tied to the tracks
these sisters in arms
calling upon the september rain
years have passed
since the last train arrived
the next one expected
to barrel in like a fireball
wiping out everything in its path
tied to the tracks or otherwise
august two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
7
I remember we were inside
looking out
quite the difference
from the days before when everything
seemed so chaotic
the whirling of the winds
the scorching heat
& the freezing rains
I remember telling myself
believe it or not
this place is most hospitable
6
lions & tigers
pitted against a she bear
& her cubs
humans wearing animal hides
predators looking to kill
real time contests in coliseums
much later played out
in fields of dreams
5
flying fish
and sea urchins
olly olly oxen free
show your face miss nellie
for all the world to see
4
who wants to sing to the moon
and pray to the sun
who wants to watch the stars
falling from the sky
children let loose with their mason jars
running as hard as they can
and cheering as loud as can be
collecting souvenirs one by one
3
we’ve been planting new things
each & every fall & spring
bulbs & seeds & saplings
bushes & shrubs & butterfly weed
and in the winter months
sunflower seeds await in the dark
in the cupboard
dreaming of being scattered
2
I keep telling the youngsters
soon you will see
your very first rainbow
and then you will understand
there is more to life than color
1
in the beginning
there was a flashlight
powered by sunlight
and we were under the covers
flipping the latest comic book
whispering & laughing
but not too loudly
august two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
there’s nothing to do here
all the windows need cleaning
looking out
past the tree tops
the sky is blue & red & green
the circus is in town
or is it the carnival
on saturday the farmer’s market
arrives downtown
it’s kind of like a moveable feast
or so I tell people
and mostly a waste of my precious time
there’s nothing to do here
don’t bother coming
paradise left back in the late sixties
now there’s just a bunch of nothing
going on
I can personally testify
the ballclub from fort wayne
rolled into town last night
I heard they’ll probably kick our ass
to boot some sort of pop rock band
is playing at sundown
at the outdoor amphitheater
I’m sure the place will be packed
august two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
she’s not watching the game
cold beer in her glove hand
new beau on her left
small device streaming
atop crossed knee
he’s keeping score in his head
far behind on the conversation
hesitating how to record
a balk or the stealing of first base
there is mass exhilaration
when the whole place erupts
by way of a grand salami
suddenly they find themselves
deep in the crosshairs
august two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
Somewhere along the line you
lost the anger
that which had defined you
for far too many years
inherited no doubt from both
sides of the family
like a metamorphic rock with a
deep cut that may never go away
But somehow anger left you
as if you had some sort of
spectacular surgery
or perhaps due to recent vaccinations
now toying with your DNA
like a genius child does
maskless & sublimely suggesting
next up is a trip to the moon
august two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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