The Boxer (day 1933)

You were a boxer
Every Thursday night
After Big Jim’s Saloon
Took a bottle and you
Out to a cobblestone night.
A muffled mind with intention,
Fireworks covered in mud,
And a slow slur that wound up
Like Roadrunner
Walking a tightrope,
The top rope
Of a dark, four cornered ring.
You liked the big city
Because your slow down
Never coincided with a dead end.
Your betting days
Flashed jackpot on your bedroom wall:
Red, green, and yellow.
And your highschool sweetheart
Hung alone on peeling paper
That crackled back at you
As you walked naked
From your bedroom
To a comfortable routine
You knew so well.

Days Roll By (day 1829)

When you hang around here
I roll in second gear
Not pushing too fast
Caught in the wind

Days roll by
Into weeks and miles
When your hanging ’round
Baby, let’s roll around

And my parking brake
Is the great escape
City lights and the vista
With music on easy beats

Boardwalk of Whiterock (day 1823)

I remember high waisted love
I had to try on
In summertime I was
A hopeless romantic singer
Sentinel at my perch
On the boardwalk of Whiterock.

Every passing and going
It was summertime affair
I heard wind blowing
Seagulls culling
And I out to my sea
On the boardwalk of Whiterock.

Now my vessel aboard
Sunglasses and a city of scores
Tide’s low sandy toes
And my voice crying out loud
For nighttime’s aglow
On the boardwalk of Whiterock.

West Coast Tofino Ucluelet - PNW photographed by Ned Tobin

Entangled Gap (day 1542)

Many things cross over the gaps developing,
Or rather the gaps closing
(Bridges close gaps but barriers remain)
But your heart yet remains.
Your heart reacts like the gates
Of a foreign city under siege,
Combatants awaiting orders with nervous sweat,
Clammy fingers gripping, reciting,
Losing breath, and faintly recognizing the boiling
Hearts standing alert and flanking beyond
Until the eyes drain tired.
Bridged gap?
Gapped bridge.
(In closing) lovers entangle.

Pocket Watch (day 1490)

I’m starting to lose focus on time,
Like the 99 heading straight to Nowhere.
The capital city of: I’ve never been there.
Anger, danger, regret, strength,
Oblivion in a massive entanglement
Of red arrows and pick up sticks.
There was some antidote
As time slipped it’s age-old
Abbra-cadabra magic betwixt
Reason and murder, holy truth and destiny.
I can’t pass this challenge
Even though my perfect pocket watch
Clicks an even tick at high-noon.
I love, but this is no love.
Entangled with soul and wisdom,
Heartbeat to a slow beat
With loose morals and fast cars,
I’ve come too far to remember
My dotted lines without headlights.
I am not a man.
I’m a ’69 Camero with hot love in the back seat.

Earth (day 1483)

With your heart beat –
Thundering through mountains,
Across crevaces,
Through valleys, full cities
And Oceans so far
An eye cannot see
But know, undoubtly,
That horizon lines
Only trick us
To believe your gravity is
Comprehensible –
My heart beats.
With your ebb and my flow
A unity gathers so strongly
That when left unchecked,
A wobbling and teetering
And quivering begins.
Thus, over this floating mass
Of carbon based matter
Quantum does exist,
Qi is your heart,
And my breath like every other breath
Is a slave to your every
Beck and call.

Cycling City Streets (day 1451)

City sounds reverberate
Off multicolored baseball caps
And stuffed flower boxes
That blur vision when
Traveling at cycling speed.
But bypassing red light lines
In spinning fashion
Has a sort of air to it
That pulls hard on lungs
And makes the day feel alive!

Polo Shirts (day 1448)

Rhythm is a magic thing.
Ebb.
Flow.
It takes the heart
And encircles it with
Falling Autumn leaves
And afternoon window shoppers
Dressed in
Late-morning-sunshine-yellow polo shirts
And walked-a-mile shoes.

Rhythm is two steps
For every one breath
On a muggy evening
Along a windy, ocean view
Pedestrians only path
In a healthy city.

Rhythm is necessary,
Just as long steady gusts for big bubbles
And late afternoon naps are.

Because if the heart takes a leap
And forgets which beat
Is flip flopping around deep inside,
Then all mastery of any subject
Is floating lifelessly away
Amidst breadcrumbs scattered for ducks
In a sea of slugs on a hungry Tuesday.