loss + acceptance

the more of america that i see
the more i realize
it doesn't belong to me

O

i threw love away
like an empire of tires
cars go nowhere
without me
you go far
in the muddy banks
of snake river
i found it righteous
to swallow my own tail
as only a devil could
lord of the flies
away a ripe love
only to let it rot
out in the open
next to a sun-bloated icarus
he was a good neighbor
if i could eat my own heart
i'd find that i don't have the substance
if i could taste the words
i would die starving
i sit full like a tire
i am open
like a liar

Here's a good review in Rapid City Journal
that I was interviewed for
Shedding Skins Review in RCJ

Just want to say a quick thank you
to all who read my blog
this blog was started in january of 2004
and it's been up for five years now
thanks for the support

sincerely,

Joel A. Waters

rhinoceros

with knife in hand
she rushed forward
like a rhinoceros
there was no stopping
that night
anymore than there are words
to describe
what had unfolded
it tore through
the very delicate fabric
of our young minds
but now i somewhat understand
why she ran
fullforce in her blackout
doing her best to stomp
out the fire
that raged
inside of her
and when all the little ones
were born
she kept our imprints
inked foots stamped onto white paper
evidence i suppose
--proof that she was there

DOG DAYS

The days here do not move
they drag on
like a dog pulling its dead legs
and there is simply
nowhere to get to
they just fester and blister
in the fullblown sun
snapping at me
like a wild thing
it's hot sour breath
melts me to sinewy meat
I am overwhelmed
by the manginess
of my poverty
an itch that cannot be scratched
a past that cannot be passed

I long for the days
when my eyes stared glossy
---a simple dull
like a puppies
even the moon picks on me
it's sickly yellow eyes
are daunting
the damn rays from its bald face
weigh on me
like porcupine quills
on a dog's snout
and there is no one around
to pull them out

KID ICARUS


Every Indian has a silver lining
I thought to myself
As I saw a young skin
Trying to fly
through downtown Pine Ridge
Amidst all the dirt clouds
He had speckles of silver paint
Around his mouth
And zeppelins
That were his fingertips
Making zig zags
Across the air
But he was going nowhere
I’d thought had the spray paint
Been gold
He’d be Icarus
Befittingly burnt by the sun

What mangy wings we have
Unable to get off the ground
Without a wicked substance
We are the meek
But we will not inherent a thing
Even if we could rise
With our degenerated bones
Most of us around here know
It’s a no-fly zone
How amazing
Those golden gates must be
But I cannot imagine standing
On a white cloud
Tracking mud into heaven
I would never be let in
Perhaps I should’ve ran to
That Gabriel Indian
Blowing into his plastic
Bag trumpet
Perhaps I should’ve rose up and joined him
It’d be the closest I’d ever get
in the sweet chariot, the sweet vapors
of a heaven