Girl in a wheelchair at the airport

Thank you for sharing with me
Your beautiful ballet in outer space

I fell in love with you at first sight
For a moment I thought you were a boy
It felt like it happened
Almost without thinking
Why did I do that
The shoes gave it away
Why do we need that
They were pink

From above clouds can look like
Skin under a microscope
The surface of another planet
Or the old standby cotton balls
The fabric of our lives

If I’m honest it was the hair that
First got my attention
The way it hung in your eyes
Like saying look at me
I can’t see you

Okay maybe it was the wheelchair too
I don’t know which came first
In this chicken or egg world
But I just wanted to thank
Thank you for the dance

I understand the sound of my voice

May cause you to prefer
The company of wolves
But my voice is my voice
The similarities it has with others
Are the beautiful work of life

In you I see the reshaping
Of a myth with science
That tells me that you were not
Once a part of me
That I was once a part of you
And at this moment
A new myth forms
Like morning light
Abandoning the dark night

All

These old feelings
Like books
And grand sailing ships
Clear windows of glass
To new worlds
Now something different
Heavy chains around my neck
Running through sand
Disguising the path
Inspired by the whip
Of totally different worlds
Not great but perfect

Sometimes I need to hold you

Like a baby holding a baby

The sun is not up yet
You make me pay
You make me pay

The rain brings out the forest smells
Kids are walking to school in it
The dog barks at them from inside

Every day
There is so much more to learn
To burn away

We are climbing mountains on our knees
Building bridges with match sticks
The castle walls are waffle cones

Do they all know how similar we are?
How hard it is for love
To age

As American kids our lives were
Governed by burning cigarettes
Trips to the liquor store
We were so excited about our boredom

Analyzing every breath
Like it was starving
In a war torn country
Failing to convince our parents
Of things

We were right
The look of a squirrel
Is the same as forty thousand
Screaming fans

How does the dog understand the light
How could I know
This is the old man
I would be

Open Poetry presented by 8th St. Publishing Guild 1 year party / Sat. Nov. 17 @ Revolution Records (KC, MO)

It’s the one year anniversary of the Open Poetry readings at Revolution Records. We’re going to celebrate with several featured readers, an open mic, free wine, & a very special announcement from 8th St. Publishing Guild & Revolution Records. You definitely don’t want to miss this one! Open to all.

Featured readers will include Matt Roth, Evan Thomas, & Patrick Sanders

Revolution Records Kansas City
1830 Locust St, Kansas City, Missouri 64108
7-9pm
FB Event

8th St. Publishing Guild is a Kansas City-based publisher of avant-garde/surrealist poetics. We love submissions. To submit or learn more, visit us online or come to meet us in person at our monthly readings.
https://www.8thstreetpublishing.com/

Go, Kansas.

Sharice

You can call it a blue wave. You can call it a pink wave. You can call it every color in the rainbow. Being a landlocked state we don’t talk a lot about waves in Kansas. But for the first time since I moved back here, nearly 6 years ago, I feel good about my political representation in Congress and for Governor. Last night the congressional district that I live in elected Sharice Davids: the first female, openly gay, Native American congresswoman. And that is really fun to say!

We also elected female democratic Laura Kelly for governor. We dodged a bullet in that race and I’m sorry to say this is probably not the last you’ve seen of her opponent Kris Kobach (Trump has already offered him a job in his administration).  But we’ve sent a message: that the majority of us in Kansas do not agree with his divisive opinions about voter fraud and the proliferation of guns.

I’m not saying that we don’t have a long way to go in changing the optics of our state. Racially motivated shootings, rigged polling locations, and maybe the worst governor in the history of the world are all part of our recent history.  But they are not the whole story.

I like to think of this election as a big log on the fire of a slowly growing light. Hopefully, this light will eventually grow big enough to show the rest of the world, what I’ve had the chance to see over the course of the past six years living in the Kansas City area. It’s a lot harder to change things from the inside out. And you can’t be more middle-America than Kansas. But there are a lot of beautiful, talented, and inspiring people around here.

So, go Kansas. Good job! Let’s take some time to celebrate and appreciate the work we’ve done. Then let’s get back out there and keep showing the world that the truest voices aren’t always the loudest or most shocking, that in our hearts we all want the same stuff and that the world is made for all the colors in the rainbow.

Sister Halloween – 10/12/18 @ The Rino (KC, MO) #poetry

Major Matt Mason USA

IMG_7628

Dipping my fingers into a bowl of wet grapes
I have no idea where this is going

Do you remember that Halloween
The neighbors did a haunted house
They said that you were dead
But it was just a trick
So you could show up later as a ghost
I spoiled it by believing them
And ran home crying to Mom
But you came after me
Your face was painted white
You told me that it wasn’t real
That you weren’t really dead
And that it was just a
Scary story for Halloween

I went back into the house
I touched the peeled grapes in the dark
They told me they were eyeballs
I knew they weren’t
But it was fun to pretend
When I saw you with the neighbor
Pale and not moving in a giant play pen
I knew you weren’t really dead
But you shouted Boo I…

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Overslept 10/05/18 @ Revolution Records (KC, MO) #poetry

Major Matt Mason USA

Overslept
Awake to the birds singing
A distant siren reminds me
A previous life

I watch two squirrels
Making love in the rain
My breakfast two cookies
And a cup of coffee
Another day of failed media fasting
Another day listening
To the human screams

Is it still called oversleeping
If there no reason to be awake
This is not a reference to suicide
I hear distant thunder
Light rain on the patio awning
I leave the kitchen door open
It’s like a giant speaker
Between the outside world
Sometimes I like getting cold
Like getting warm in reverse
Sometimes the screaming
Sounds like singing

I knew there was a reason I overslept

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Post operative instructions 9/28/18 @ Inner Space Yoga (KC, MO) #poetry

Major Matt Mason USA

IMG_7418The dog communicates
Early in the morning
I think about the difference
Between a bark and a scream
I make the coffee now
I assign the meaning to my morning
It is a gift and a curse
Until it is all a gift
Om Shiva Shakti Namaha
Om Shiva Shakti Namaha
Om Shiva Shakti Namaha
My destiny awaits
But first I must
Choose the right socks
He said She said We said
We dance with ghosts
We listen for their high frequencies

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Approved Transactions

I am never alone
Swiping at the pain
Touching the dirty glass
There’s nothing new about a Coke Float
Unless it is a New Coke Float

I pull through you like a car wash
Eyes like trains
Trained eyes inspire vertigo

Dharma at Arby’s
I don’t want to know how I did today
Tell me how I found love in parking lots
We laugh at tenses
The electric wind covers conversations
With simulated randomness
I could shoot a movie
“Bring something back”
We explored galaxies from the back seat
That tree was Vietnam
The streetlamp is oxygen

I don’t need to know
The rain puts you here
The window places us and then
I unlock my bicycle and ride home