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
we are ingrained in repetition
long before we were born
before then we already knew
rivers run into the sea
& stars fall from the sky
you’ve learned by way of music
how riders of the storm
were born into this lonely house
and so you close your eyes
dancing in the center of
your own universe
one in which has no ending
march two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
yes it’s true I was lost
for the better part of my life
chasing the impossible
self-harming
neglecting & dismissing
deep inside the mosh pit
the dark cavern
the constant turmoil
with thousands of other
lost souls
the bell is ringing
its origin dating back
a half century
but I’m unable to locate
the source
its home
a place that once was
and ceases to be
all this time I thought I was
advancing forward
but truth be told
I’ve been regressing
in search of discovering
that who I truly am
january two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I try to remember
the lost dreams from childhood
baseball & butterflies
how the lady in the shoe
in the kitchen
screamed at all her children
(but I was not one of them)
all of us pretending
knowing exactly
where we came from
it was the fifteenth
maybe fourteenth century
and mother was making mead
in the cellar
me as a toddler shadowing
her every move
quietly asking where on earth
I could have come from
and ever since
never asking again
may two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
it’s not the first time you’ve chased the wind
having gone from one idea to the next
but then suddenly there is none
all you can hear are sirens
eventually winds die down
giving you plenty of time to pause
letting loose over a thousand dreams
turning sirens into your mother’s screams
april two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
turning nothing into something
without words or paint or music
but simply by willing it so
now that’s a feat worthy of the gods
how can I even try to do the same
in my own little space and time
redesigning recurring nightmares
or reworking age old fairy tales
this is not the first time I’ve talked
myself into believing in the past
one in which I was a lesser god
still learning how to reinvent
perhaps next time I will arise
from beneath the very earth herself
eventually abloom in full color
admired by the gods I wish to be
february two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
it wasn’t supposed to come to this
but here we stand at the precipice
oh how we keep saying tomorrow
is a brand new day
and now after all these years
tomorrow’s here to stay
one part of me says climb that hill
the other saying dig your way through
options are limitless
but we tend to focus on black
and white considerations
knowing full well [at this point]
there aren’t any bad decisions
and then there’s the river
flowing through it all
one day impersonating rebirth
the next day heaven on earth
february two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
how often I look to the stars for answers
even as a child sitting on front porch step
sadly confused what had brought me forth
here in this house of merriment and madness
passage of time often blurries the obvious
blending permanence with imperfect escapism
scrapping together true change from within
hitching magic carpet ride to nearest galaxy
temporary visitations have become the norm
familiar faces nothing but a distant memory
could it be I long to return to the womb
desperately desiring to be born again
november two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
she so loved porcelain
telling me how she wished
she could be reborn this way
I said all I know is papier-mâché
but would do my best to
make it seem as she wished
it’s difficult to make amends
and rebuild a life that was
meant to live just once
but here I am reconstructing
making papier-mâché
out of porcelain
so that she may live again
I whisper into her inner ear
challenging her to make herself
defying those prevailing winds
attempting to tear her apart
june two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
sometimes I’m a little late to the party
and sometimes I forget to show up at all
either way there is constant commingling
going on between this world and the next
come sunrise strangers begin to stir
chatting amongst themselves in the parlor
recounting the previous night’s events
and taking bets on my reappearance
may two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all right reserved
oh glorious night settle into darkness
and let me tell thee whom I give my life
I belong neither to sky above nor sea below
and from all accounts was burst forth from
scorpius some thirty-three light years ago
though my days on earth have been counted
on one thousand and one hands
it is a far cry to say this was ever my home
for the glory of goodness lives not here
but rather in a place and time that knows no end
november two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
she bent over and whispered into my ear
and I heard every single word she said
but I did not move and barely breathed
it was as if I was trapped in a daydream
and every single person I ever knew
walked past me as I lay dying
there was so much work left to be done
unfinished landscapes and hidden rainbows
manicures and photographs
dusty bookshelves and unlit candles
holograms and talismans dangled before me
like a mobile swaying above a bassinet
and then I realized this was not a dream
but rather I was being drawn
back inside of her
june two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
so I hear everything happens for a reason
which certainly includes my birth
a byproduct of an irish girl
and a self-determined misunderstood man
sure I got kicked around
but that was for my own good
degraded and humiliated and put in place
for no other reason than to be reminded
exactly who was in charge
but as the bible says a man must leave his mother
and cling to his dreams
but my dreams were awkwardly inconsistent
and so I ran away on god’s command
and became a soldier child
joining the ranks of the finest of misfits
who learn to forget they ever had a past
and learn to kill without thinking or feeling
out on the fringes there is no need
for marlboros or whiskey or california weed
there is only the desire to survive
by sipping on desert spring water
and feasting on exotic butterflies
and if you are fortunate enough
to die a violent death
there is an even better chance
you will find yourself adorned within
a field of the brightest wildflowers
december two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
first freeze came overnight
like a woman’s hard slap
on an unwashed face
but when the sun came up
unopposed
I knew it was going to be
a good day
I imagined little ones running ‘round
chattering like robins competing
to be heard
gathering resiny pine cones into
yellow buckets
stored in the garage as
dead-of-winter kindling
meanwhile atop the hill
I move about on hands and knees
digging up and dividing bulbs
replanting the baby ones
giving myself plenty of reasons
to make it through
another Iowa winter
october two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 