to be humbled is an understatement
there is just too little time to begin with
and I seem to have lost my way
I’ve been digging for treasure far too long
and I’ve grown tired of manipulation
oh how I want to be able to trust again
I spent most of the afternoon solitarily
tidying up your place & the neighborhood
planting purple petunias by your side
november two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the mind is able but the body disabled
what kind of drugs have they injected into me
what kind of dreams do they have in store
I’ve never been to los angeles
but I’ve been to san francisco
and there I was again
seventeen going on thirty
walking the streets at night
making friends with the cold pacific
they’re trying to wake me from the dream
thousand of hands tugging at my strings
time continuing to reverse some 12 days now
I hopped on a jet airliner
and made my way to clay county
via chicago midway
eventually self-quarantining
resting atop the ancient bluffs
overlooking the mississippi
the eagles soar high in rotating fashion
I close my eyes & will them nearer
as quiet as the sky they pass me by
november two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
they may be dead by definition
but on all other terms
provide growth opportunities
for termites & beatles & ants
molds & mildews & mushrooms
the attraction is powerful
creatures with or without wings
drilling & boring & hammering
building new homes from scratch
or renovating abandoned ones
grey ghosts now centuries old
skyscrapers taller than ever
actively contributing
to the smorgasbord of life
perhaps more vital than before
november two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I call my brother
he doesn’t pick up because
he doesn’t recognize the number
I say he should start drawing again
suddenly there’s crackling
maybe some laughter
two or three or four of them
speaking in tongues
telling me to shut the fuck up
I put the phone down
find myself moonwalking across
the newly polished laminate floor
out on the terrace deck
I breathe in the outside air
all the voices
gradually fading away
the koi in the pond below
beginning to jump for joy
november two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I thought I had started something
turns out I’m just consciously resuming
released after an abbreviated pause
Don’t think I didn’t notice you banded me
(on my left foot) like a common criminal
paroling me back into society
hopeful my eventual return yields
a multitude of data sets
This much I say & this much you know
I am not some lame carrier pigeon
at the mercy of manipulation
the multitude of neurons in my brain
tells me I’ll never see you again
Meanwhile the family bickers and balks
complacent or jealous or abhorrent
the far majority close to casting lots
november two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
not sure if we’re picking up the pieces
or simply putting them
back together
like some subliminal jigsaw puzzle
showcasing rose petals on a hardwood floor
a shadowy figure in the corner rocker
bent but not broken
a filtered sun unable to expose
any kind of emotion
let alone a mind suspended in time
november two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I’ve often wondered
about the Spanish Moon
if I could possibly make it out
once having gone inside
The hookers & hustlers there
will tear you apart
as long as you have that spark
diamonds in your eyes
and rings inside your soul
They’ll take anything they want
at the Spanish Moon
as you foolishly fall in love
with that dark-eyed girl
singing & playing guitar
november two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
it was thursday & we turned
everything off
outside the front door
I stood on the patio & breathed in
the fresh air
unapologetically
the grass & concrete
were slightly frosted over
the neighborhood street
quiet & mostly vacant
(somehow eerily queer)
like in a king story
or hitchcock movie
back in the kitchen
feel free to pick your poison
mimosa or bloody mary
or any kind of shot in the dark
whether from the liquor
or medicine cabinet
if for some reason
you feel the need to get away
please remember the little turkey
should be ready by two
november two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
it was a late february morning
I recall it like yesterday
relaxing in the union lounge
black coffee & marlboro lights
I pen senseless poetry
comfortably numb in a window seat
the sun warming my ballpoint
unleashing thoughts onto the notebook
other than the dirty snowpack
it was truly a springlike day
& as I packed up & headed out
to my ten o’clock lecture
I was tempted to remind myself
how much I’ll miss the thaw
november two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the watch on my wrist
lets me know how I sleep
recording every inner pattern
turning them into algorithms
early morning sunrise
pushes the ghosts aside
bread n butter bread n butter
banana or apple or orange
life is a series of snacks
call them meals if you may
planting trees in the morning
raking leaves by night
what you don’t experience
you live through others
thunder & lightning & raw fear
yes you say the gods are angry
opening & closing at will
be it door or window to the soul
bring in the good & let out the bad
now you see me now you don’t
november two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jimmy dugan said it best
about not crying
during a specific activity
I could have used that advice
back when I was a little leaguer
back when real life was
easily distinguishable
from this present day reality
november two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I tried writing the end of this story
about a boy & his bird
bound together by a freak
accident his dead mother
would never forget
but in doing so was interrupted
distracted by a murder of crows
telegraphing their signals
mimicking words like secrecy
and pure fiction
a reminder those series of events
long ago were swept away by a
twisting turning wind
mystically created by the two of them
november two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
from snake to mouse
to predator bird
your understanding
naturally progresses
in complete alignment
with the slightest of stars
soon you’ll be able
to build a birdhouse
a boathouse
a townhouse
soon you’ll be able
to hold a heart in your hand
at some point
you’ll be showing others
how to interpret their own dreams
humming by the fireside
thread & needle in hand
mending leathery wings
november two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
The bus took us only so far
and from there
we had to go by foot
Not everyone chose
to climb even higher
they remained at the base
napping in the bus
or browsing the curiosity shop
some watching the locals
playing chess
and enjoying a beer
As for the rest of us
it seemed like we were
stepping through a cirrus cloud
eventually reaching the solemn plateau
the inner graffiti centuries old
a voice inside you reaffirming
nothing down below
possibly matters
november two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
Tarantino pointed in my direction
immediately I stood at attention
and yelled out Yes Sir
I was supposed to be an “Extra”
but for some reason
he saw something in me
and next thing I know
I’m learning my lines in the cabin
of a Seven Forty-Seven
He casted me as the New Messiah
having moved the set
miles outside of Jerusalem
learning to ride a donkey named Travolta
my mentor Uma helping me
to memorize my lines
In the final scene they shot me to death
at least twelve times
three silver bullets from a Colt 45
ripping through my bare chest
the entire crew hurriedly packing
leaving me bleeding to death
at the foot of the Kotel
I dragged my body toward the Western Sun
one arm stretched up & out
begging them not to abandon me
november two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
we’re neither buyers nor sellers
so don’t bother asking
we’re holding on to what we have
[at least for the time being]
praying at sunrise & at sunset
for the wind to bring in the rain
for the blues to be blown away
november two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 