Matthew J. Waters - 2
Dances with LeavesI stood looking out the window
at a small pile of leaves I had raked and forgotten about Damn I thought I can’t believe I left behind this pile of leaves It was then as I had these thoughts the wind came out of nowhere hitting the pile of burnt colors and sending them high into the air Hey honey I yelled you’ve got to come see this the leaves are dancing Crosswinds continued lifting the leaves higher than eye level twisting them into a stream of irregular circular motion fully fluid yet shapely as if produced by a child playing spirograph on a table Hey honey I yelled you’ve got to come see this This time she leaned her head back and turned her neck my way What is it she asked – I’m reading The leaves are dancing I said you’ve got to come see this First there was a pause as the leaves continued to dance and then there was closure the violin and the piano ☊their sound supersedes the
clamor and the simmering pot not quite boiling not quite understood the floors mean nothing they’ve since been replaced replaced but not restored never to be the same appearing out of nowhere like a silver moon in disguise the music filters through making my world come to life the violin and the piano still echo in these walls comforting my sorrow and giving me repose flash powder ☊what have I contributed
to the cause keeping the music alive and guarding elephants from poachers I’ve given up aerosol sprays and gasoline marlboro lights store-bought soup and religion how much more do I have to give that constant humming in my ear is that just a warning from my guardian angel or simply a reminder how those widely admired can easily be swept away like a night owl’s prey silently screaming absolution doesn’t exist in the blink of an eye and even if it did no act of contrition could prevent anyone from seeing the light lonesome is the nightout of the blue melancholy
wrapped her arms around me and held me close whispering sad songs and wiping away the tears that formed from the corners of my mind she slowly swayed me encouraging me to hush painted pictures of the moon and stars with her deceiving voice expressing how precious and lonesome is the night |
as if I had been there ☊a thin vapor trail
slipped in through the front door but nobody was home if I had been there I would have noticed something was quite different but I was gone on a journey of a lifetime the place had not changed all these years everything perfectly in place as if nobody had really lived there while my mind wandered away from worldly ideals seeking out transcendental gurus residing on new moons my spirit remained behind waiting patiently to be seen the alpha wizard ☊was it the wire or the tree
or wayward balloons bursting the ceiling allowing meteoric pulses to enter the atmosphere uninterrupted was it the whiskey or the rye that sparked something out of nothing like lightning in the sky throwback man walks around half-naked carrying torch by daylight poking sticks at stars by night extending arms high above his head he spreads his fingers wide electrically connecting dots whether seen or unseen from the nondescript beginning to an imaginary end when the lion awakens from withinso much dark emotion lives
deep within us locked away from centuries past idling by and unafraid able to unleash itself most unexpectedly almost anything can spark its wickedness awakening from dormancy and revealing bloody secrets only unknown ancestors ever knew subsisted like a lion suddenly enraged instinctively you rush from out of the bushes rip apart the innocent lamb quietly devouring any remnant of yourself charting the free verse sky ☊those stars we used to wish upon
the ones first appearing in the twilight or the ones falling from the sky while sitting on the front porch step where have they gone now when you need them the most sometimes I think of a certain star that shined so bright it had no choice but to crash and burn in some remote forest you’ve never heard those are the kinds of stars I miss the most this universe is nothing but a free verse poem with a little sizzle and endless syllables spherically rotating around your ever expanding mind your inner child charting the course of events of every single moving object ♢ |