Show Poem / Dec. 10, 2021, KC, MO (The Brick): Please be aware

The old man that you shake you stick at 
May be on fire 

The pain shooting through his knees
Seeps into a babies bottle 
A mother’s breast he had to fight for
Sleeps beneath the ground 
Preserved like a hidden science experiment 

There is nothing in the world
That cannot be beautiful and sad
The rush of picking a side 
Overshadows the main dish 

Who loosened all lids on the salt shakers 
Who left the refrigerator door open
Who’s footprints are these in the butter

Could there be such a thing 
As a mindful meat cutter? 
Could we eventually see 
With the eyes we are born with? 

I see many worlds dancing and 
Many worlds asleep 
Many worlds dreaming 
Dreaming of wakefulness 
Dreaming of sleep 

Show Poem/ Dec. 3, 2021, Lawrence, KS (Replay Lounge): Today I write the poem down

But that doesn’t make it more or less
Than the poetry of any other moment

When I see a silent leaf drifting through
An unseasonably warm December sky
It is no different than a mob of young sexpots
Tearing up a dance floor on a Friday night

Regret is a shortcut for the rich path of uncertainty

It ends where it begins

But it’s sugar has us dipping our tails
Into its sweet and bottomless wells
Chasing our own stories over page after page
Scrolling ahead in a book that has yet to be written

Engage your ass as rudder not a carrot or a stick
Invite the ghost of radical uncertainty
Into your bungalow of shifting sand

Hitch a ride on this wave of destruction
And rejoice in the salty tears
Of unqualified compassion

What can I do

Close to me

Pick up the trash
Count all the little floaty things
I see coffee dripping
Parents dropping kids off
The race is on
So much poetry around coffee
So much trash not picked up
For weeks it blows
Sometimes longer
Set free from car windows
Escaped from cans
Stuck in fences
Bleaching in the sun
Might make it into a bird’s nest
Or lawn mower blade
A passerby’s thoughts
Eventually someone takes care

Fri. Dec. 20 @ Revolution Records (KC, MO) Release Party and open mic for Dad on 8th St. Publishing

8th Street Publishing Guild is proud to announce the release of Matt Roth’s new chapbook entitled “Dad”. Join us for an evening of poetry, music, drinks and more! An open mic will follow our featured readers. Be sure to pick up your very own copy of Dad at the reading!

8th Street Publishing Guild is Revolution Records’ in-house publisher of surreal & avant-garde poetics. To learn more, read what we’ve published, or find out how to submit, find us online or come meet us in person at the readings.
https://www.8thstreetpublishing.com/

FB Event

Operating at a safe distance –07 /26/19 @ Crow’s Coffee (KC, MO) #poetry

F3D24CF0-53B9-4615-BCE4-2CC8B157BC99
Addicted to three-thirty​
Allowing for the clouds to pass
Documentary jungle dreams
Operating at a safe distance

When I was a child once
I let a dog bite me in the eye twice
The first time I wanted to play
The second time I was apologizing

Time to let go of all the stuffed animals
To break the seal
To pet the penguins
Take a coffee with danger

Zero-calorie sweetener
Balanced for everyday use
Earthly grains ready to eat
All-day pain relief
What was I apologizing for?

My species, my infinite wisdom
In every relationship since
I’ve never forgotten you Pretzel

Addicted to running 

To hearing every voice
The ringing is a ghost
Of love

Telephones that took our time

We used to attach ourselves
To common things
Smuggling in new light

Arrowsmith Trans Am REM

Now we distort the stolen titles
Fighting the grinder of spellcheck
The cold hard algorithms
Softening us up with baby talk

Google Twitter YouTube Paypal

We spent weeks in the woods
With a single token collect call
Spoke of my latest badges of merit
Or how many bug bites I had sustained

Even then I had very little desire to talk

Luckily there is no deadline for love
No such thing as too much love
Flowers are telephones
They like to be admired
They love to be loved

And they love you

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