September 2020
Scott Waters
scottishwaters@yahoo.com
Bio Note: I am a poet and songwriter living in Oakland, California with my wife and son. I'm mesmerized by the natural beauty of the western states, and almost died in the Grand Canyon because I kept going down, forgetting that I also had to come back up. Evening used to be my time of magic and art, but now morning is when it all happens. I have published previously in The Blue Nib, The Pacific Review, Better Than Starbucks, and other journals.

Too Early To Say

Writing coffee on an empty stomach
is like reading tobacco leaves
without a match

the clock dripping olive oil
on the kitchen floor

the greasy puddle
I stepped in 
while staggering around
to feed the barking dog

the brain balanced
on the knobby stick
deciding not to take
the body back to bed

but instead to float here

pawing back the curtains
on another day

The Clearing

This morning I awoke to a view
of smoke, black and rolling,
from our living room window,
hard to tell if two blocks away
or two miles, should I wake
my wife and son, grab the
photographs, insurance policies,
leash the dogs, hose the roof,
run through quiet streets shouting
"Fire!" till we reach the water's edge
and wake from nightmare

into a blue dream
of light, horizon, pelicans,
and no wind.
©2020 Scott Waters
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