Killing Me Now (day 2304)

I keep hoping
Against all support
That you’ll finally open
To a wonderful life
Without the pain
That’s killing me now
Lying here saddened, alone.
It is not truth
That stricketh fear upon thy stone
Or longing of thy presence, no
It is your warm touch
Instead of coldness
And the brow of kindness
Instead of the eve of sadness
Lost breath that slowly
Walks away with you
Killing me now.

Sailor (day 2303)

I am not a sailor but I’ve come across the seas
Beat the bitter winter in a trembling schooner
Alive is wisdom of ten thousand hands
To put together pieces I’ve held – still remains
Each beating with a magnified flutter
And in each blossoming moment a child began to say:
I want to be your savior, I want to be your slave
Without knowing how the words echoed in the hands
Of ten thousand missionaries
Without knowing how deeply moving the words spoke
Upon the weathered conscience of the aging sailor played
Who cast with two heavy glances a shifting amicable feeling
That led the two together as the rip tide grows
Until at long last they stood erect, like the cenotaph they had created
With tears wetter than any gale
And the sermon echoes true.

Visions of Moonlight (day 2297)

I’ve been drawing raindrops
On the inside of my window
Watching the drips form castles
Majestically standing empty, barren,
Alone as Moon howls at midnight
Keeping gargoyles company
That eerily await guests
Who never warmly greet
Extended invitations
Hand written in blackletter.
But me, sitting side by side
Wrought iron window locks
Dreaming of daylight
In visions of moonlight,
I have lost all initiative
To compete with vines
Growing up the side of my body
So I slump into my sleep
Borrowed by the moon.

Notes (day 2296)

On the note that I wrote
I said I wasn’t able to grow
It had two long names
I’m not about to repeat
But at the end of the letter
I had two last words
That never came out
Because I had become afraid of you
And then I left unheard
With a broom in my hand
Sweeping up each piece
That shattered as I wept
About the loss of a book
Written two pages at a time
As if it knew it’s turn
And I shall not return
For I have a note in my pocket.

Tumbling (day 2288)

I’m walking on this tumbling
This effortless feeling
Ignored and exposed
And here I am in truth
Still doing the wrong thing
I’m alone and the wind is blowing
While ravens keep circling
With your back turned to me
Flying high with toes on the ground
In love of this soul
And I’m down down down
Your dusty trail
In this tumbling carry on
On this rumbling road song.

Sea (day 2287)

When the sea gains a rosy tinge
Of the being you’ve led me to
Each ripple of truth shall hurl
All explanations down
A thunderous alley of cringe.
But the worst shall come
When letting go
Floating down she goes..
Lest my vision blurs
To my heart’s endure
And I see deep depths of blue.

Forgotten (day 2284)

How does one continue to live
In a place that’s forgotten your touch
In a world where unfamiliar hearts
Enslave a name that’s no longer known.
How does one let go
Of a T-shirt you used to wear
Of hair bands you’ve left behind
And a smell that used to be present.
At the grocer yesterday
An unknown woman walked by
With a forgotten fragrance
Who smiled as she picked up
A package of frozen peas.
Yet wounds are still swelling
Bruises still glow with a cold feeling
That a forgotten fabric
Has been set aside from imagination
And two long lines separate the distance
Of once was and what’s now.

Back Endings (day 2283)

I never wanted to fall apart like this
Leaving pages bent and pencils broken
My back pages are written upside down
And my back pockets are filled with memories
That keep reminding me I’ve gone away.
Rusty backstops echo number five
From a once was now gone away
And we might send a letter
To remind you we’re far from you are home.
I close my eyes and wind lays your whispers
Upon my hardly kempt whiskers
With leaves blowing too early now
For autumn to be upon us,
Yet every breath I hear coming towards me
Leaves traces of my sadness
Rolling along to the tune of the trans-Canada
Like coyotes howling in the night
Reminding me you’re far away.
But I don’t want to say goodnight
I don’t want to wipe the tears
That cool my evening breeze,
I want to take back my endings
I never meant to write down
In a love poem I never meant to send,
No, I want to listen to the stars
Until connection has been made
And my back pockets hold bits of paper
Your pencils wrote to me.

Back Endings by Ned Tobin

Red Sun (day 2280)

When a lonely mountain calls her name,
When a red sun sets,
A lake, my heart, listens intent;
A loon calls out for twilight.
And her name is here again
Amidst pines that run the shore,
Where slowly her lines
Run though my head
Slow memories drawn out into the lake
(A canoe silently passes by
As darkness settling in)
To warn me of my heavy eyes
And heart amidst the peaks
Where I shall watch again, tomorrow,
For a sun to lead the way.