I was dying
in a burning village
—all the while
the seas were raging
the sky was violent
flashing colors from the
crimson spectrum
as if the apocalypse
was at hand
in the dream
I tossed & turned
possibly tumbling inside
the belly of a whale
the morning light
whispered into my ear
saying when I open my eyes
I will have become
a child again
may two thousand twenty-five
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
whatever identity
I may have had
has been stripped clean
by forces of my own witting
and I find myself
attempting to reinvent
the man I was meant to be
march two thousand twenty-five
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I was burning in a dying village
my screams but a whisper within gale force winds
The seas were raging like wildfires
—the skies violent in color & sound & redolence
In all the chaos I had miraculously fallen fast asleep
Come daybreak I awoke to sheer silence
feeling as if I had been reborn
february two thousand twenty-five
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
there I was born again
a total wreck
drenched
having just squeezed
out of the fish bowl
in the bedroom
in the lockbox
—in the second drawer
of the secretary desk
[among other things]
a sealed envelope
labeled in case of death
the things people don’t know about
existing in the dark
the things some people inherit
but the way things seem to go around here
it won’t take long
before the seal is broken
once again
december 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
I probably won’t be around
to see how it all ends
but then again maybe I’m just a cat
enjoying an earlier life
it’s true I don’t recall
where or when I was born
instead I must rely on others
who claim to know such information
concerning the before & after
what I witness by day isn’t enough
instead I rely on technicolor dreams
forcing me to jump to my feet
I’d like to be a mouse or a mole
working from the inside
gathering intel by way of a frequency
only I can understand
somehow I’ve got this feeling
next time I’ll wake up
on the other side of the world
probably someplace like kathmandu
september two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
how far back can you remember
chances are if you try
you can go so much further
than ever imagined
imagine if you will
the sounds of the deep deep ocean
surrounding you in serenity
la niña & el niño
alternating in near perfect
harmony
and before that
you sailed past worlds
you can barely remember
slowly coming back into focus
the further you drift away
august two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
there is strength in numbers
and now I find myself alone
the mighty empire having fallen
giving rise to newborn stars
cast away by a foreign power
I’ve become a messenger
returning to the very beginning
bringing with me the good news
july two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I mean not to brag
but I’ve buried my past
like seeds of destruction
ashes gathered & scattered
over time germinating
mere inches below the surface
a little girl in the garden
[creating new worlds]
pours pretend water from a red pail
& I find myself mingling
w/the roots of the perennials
mere inches below her feet
march two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
if I were to start from scratch
I wouldn’t even know my mother
I would be a microbe
either in someone’s gut
or on the ocean floor
a mere figment
of an imagination
I can’t begin to comprehend
if I were to be reborn
what are the chances
I’d be back in the same womb
the one that nourished me
the first & last time
before exploding into this world
january two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
delighted by the findings
I begin to believe my decline
may soon be slowed
or absolutely reversed
how can this be
[I rhetorically ask]
is it not true there is no undoing
the advancement of the
universe itself
is there no unwinding
forward progression
once the wheels
are put into motion
how can it be
I can crawl back inside
that in which I first arrived
november two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
below ground
coincidence can be found
bone & rock & history
loosely wrapped
inside places even your
imagination can’t fathom
unless you’re dead asleep
in the air is where it’s at
high as a kite so to speak
transported by coal-consuming
flying dragons
firing on all cylinders
taking you to places
only years ago unthinkable
if you can’t escape
the exosphere
you’ve no choice but to die
a stone cold death
or fall back to the surface
reborn to climb yet again
or dig into oblivion
august two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
there we go
playing with fire again
believing that finding our way
is by way of light
every night we die a slow death
only to be reborn
morning after morning
neither learning by past mistakes
nor desirous of trying something new
instead we go back to the fire
believing we can conquer it
believing if only we can make it last
throughout the night
we shall never have to die again
july two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
that flash before your
very eyes
I see it happening
all the time
[I see it happening
all the time]
it’s true what they say
about the mind
a recorder of everything
playbacks & recalls
sometimes spot on
often faulty
nonetheless all of it
the truth & the way
how a simple gesture
takes you back
before the very beginning
before time itself
may two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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
shadows in the open field
keep running toward the sun
the hair of the ghosts
blowing in the opposite direction
courtesy of westerly gusts
these hills haven’t burned
for more than four centuries
old world ideas rekindling
the adjacent forest
ancient & anxious to impress
a collision is inevitable
the outcome undeterminable
ashes redefining themselves
by way of a circular wind
the scent of the air palpable
april two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 