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

Grown (day 2276)

I’ve grown accustomed to pains in my soles
Boots tied tight and laces frayed at the ends.
I keep stepping over large trees
Under foliage so green
And I see old men walking in each bough
Sharing legends with my awake eyes
That keep my mind wandering
Through swamps and glades of spruce
Like a lost soul with a purpose;
A message written on sacred parchment
Enroute to all ends receivable
– Some unaccountable, some trustworthy,
Some in a jam and just looking for a way out –
I like marching and I’m good at it
And I’ve got my home about my back.

This Howl (day 2269)

This howl awoke into a fog
A late winter hovering on summer’s brow
Shifting dreams into shivers
Shifting giants into trees
And stones walking in silence
To wind blowing softly
Upon the giant’s sail.
A lone small bird soared effortlessly
Into and then out of fog
Looking regularly at the ground cover
For the days feed of minions and minnows
Bobbing with the grace of an oil lamp
Stained the colour of desolation
Like a sea captain standing proud
Upon the hearth of a sinking ship
Smoking his last bowl from his foreign pipe
Blowing heavy clouds over the valley
Set deep inside his heart of a howl.

Reasoning (day 2268)

My reason left a black mark upon that open door
It reached up, seared the roof then clambered about the floor
Dragging it’s hefty tail each step along the way.
Lamenting, I cried into the rain splashing about my ankles
Until I made a lonely call that brought back each raven
And there we sat in harmony, speaking to each other free
As my marking upon the door began to float up, on, out the door.

Dampness (day 2259)

Cold mornings with fog
Leaks into one’s bones
Exposing revealed skin
With deepness
That cannot be shaken away.
Wetness seems everywhere
As does dampness
Coldness mistaken for dampness
Modern fabrics mistaken for dampness
Raindrops shaken from treetops
By gusts of wind
Unmistakably dampness.
Each dry spot is coveted
Preciously protected by wetter things
Until dampness encroaches
Upon precious dryness
And another day begins.

Window Speak (day 2255)

What borders your mind
Living inside windows
Waving at only full moons
From the bottom
Of a claw foot tub.
Does conscience
Grab your envelope
Of regret as a child grabs
A pumpkin to smash?
My Lilies have grown up
Convincing dilated pupils
Of a two for one deal
They cannot pass up,
But you don’t like purple hearts
You dive deep into paper cups
Shredding tomorrow
With dull plastic knives
And this is goodbye
From your window I’m waving.

Connect (day 2254)

Calmness is my pressure
A systematic indulgence
That crosses over boundaries
Calling names
At single use disposable users
A tire track
With endless amounts of windows
At an ocean view exploration
A landfill with no name
With no responsibility
Because nobody actually knows
Where disposable income goes
Wake up with an eye sore
And slice the issue out
Organically disposable non-issue
An ocean of non-issue
A backyard of non-issue
A driveway with no grass
Beside a lawn with perfect grass
Clear boundaries
In a global world
Connected
Indiscreet and moving
Migrating in our uncomfort
Like comfortable shoes
Worn well
While shopping for a new pair
And comfortably disposing
Of my connect.

Edge of Me (day 2253)

It drops the edge out of me
Silence and methods and
Misunderstanding
I don’t know the cost
But I know the me
The truth in me
And it comes out in droves
That burst upon parkades
And spills into pastures
To edges of your existence
To be forgotten
Muted
Stumbled upon and missed
And closed.
A box being closed
Yet so delicately wrapped
And ornately carved
It is almost fit
It should rest closed
Yet each edge
Reminds me I’m still here
Resembling
A fifty year old maple
With buttons on my shoes.

Sunsets (day 2252)

Sunsets have come again
Chipping paint on my front door
Paint paint paint some more
Let me go ol’Loony bin
I’m growing wild to my back steps
It’s summer come to hem me in
Picking out my rooted joy
Chip-o-way-o-chip-a-maw
Returned again with knuckles raw
Scuffed it up till fingers bled
A little grass to dull the pain
Watching sunsets come again
Call me in the morning sun
Call me in the morning
Call me when it’s to dark again

Free Man (day 2240)

I am letting go my reason
Turning open my vessel
My heart no longer caged
A soldier standing on the front line
Battle worn and still alive
Thriving in throngs of passion
Arrow plucked and bow taught
Whisper goes out to my gods
Eyes falling into ecstasy
Smiling with little worry
Reason blending into action
Stepping out a free man.