Tag Archives: Edges

Tangle Me Whole (day 1927)

Tangle me whole –
Fraying at edges,
Confused and scarred
Sacred and empty.
Faith lasts
Yet water runs dry
And hallowed river banks
Leave tears running
Down my spine
Tangling me whole
Lifting me up and
Scraping my sides
With sandstone and thorns.
Let my ankles
Caress each meadow
And place my soul in the sky.

Tangle me Whole by Ned Tobin

Unfettered Weather (day 1169)

The weather, as I walk,
Shows me spaces left unfettered,
Spaces beyond amusement
And substantiality that fall
Along orthogonal planes
Teetering on the edges of
My leftover thoughts.
So as the weather abides
On goes my walk.

My Land | Chapter III (day 1126)

I remember when the wind blew so hard one year it would blow over our tin cups that weren’t full on the old weathered kitchen table. Our house was warm when the fire was hot, and well ventilated in the summer – we can say that. It ain’t easy being a pioneer, when the land is dry and winters are cold.

The thoughts drain my efforts, drain my life. They’re happy thoughts when you remember the past, but they’re also jagged edges that twist the time away like yesterday was my mothers hand.

There should be holes in my heart with all the bullets I’ve let go. And all the tears that I’ve cried.

This life makes a man hard before he knows how to sing. Like the twisting pines around these parts that I know each by name.

And firewood.

[note: to read the full epic track my land]

Brown Candy (day 1043)

Your brown candy side part pulls at my edges
Leaving my manicured innocence clenching;
Reasonable drip sensing dilated pupils.

Pull into my senses you heart beating faster

Music rolls onward like wheels on the road
And I watch you, young brazen child,
Waiting for a spill on isle two

My tall, naked, and empty cup sits lonely

Please push your digital devices
A little closer to the edge
I’d like to have more space please

Tables always wobbly, clean, but wobbly and full

Cold patrons wander in stomping off the dew drops
I observe the wind blowing the black and white parquet awning
Where I unplug and vacate my window seat

There I Lie (day 889)

There I lie
Face turned towards the heavens imploring
Seeking questions
Yet written on my mind

Sun scattered eyes
Blurring crimson edges
Setting fire to
Out of focus pins and needles

Before deaths cry
Wind whispers shallow markings
On seasons frozen skin
Betraying movement

And forgotten
A heavy coat leaves
Memories
Without occupation

2013.10.23 - Prince George Trails

This Time Was To Come (day 703)

I feel a cry, deep beneath layers of cautious steps
One that reaches the far edges of this kingdom
From the cold North where land thaws and turns green
To the tropical South and it’s large brightly feathered birds

It’s challenging, this feeling within
It signals growth, time of change
Pushing my knowledge beyond what I feel
Into real struggles; present ordeals

I did not know this day was to come
This formidable passage of now into future
That grabs at my dreams and eats at my heart
I did not know that this time would come

Francine Georgette Picoundé (day 699)

They never see me
These silly humans
I lurk in the darkness
And over the fences
I find all of your
Leftover pizza
Shrimpy remains
Edges of sandwiches
And I smirk
At your sloppiness
How weakly you conceal
What you waste
Exorbitantly
Your spoils
My riches
I am laughing
In pure splendor!
Muahahaha

Francine Georgette Picoundé, a raccoon

Francine can be purchased here.

Safety (day 603)

Drifting through the streets of time
I fall over the edges of life
I whisper to the devils wings
That hover close to my leftover bread
I cry when I watch the sun go down
Perfect desperation I can never control
But loosely I dangle the stranglehold
The true release of tension
Between my staunch sober lips
Dragging out time
In a never ending hustle homeward
Perhaps it’s this thought here
That leads me into the bliss
Forgotten in a moments serenity
I’ve left nothing to spare

Istanbul - 24082012 (166 of 328)

Stamps (day 536)

Perforated edges
Soaking
Indexing

Let Go Now (day 499)

Your poems that crisscross across the edges of my face
Make me feel like the angels have descended
Deep down within the glory hold of the champions heart
Sweet songs emanate out from the edges of sanity
Calling me closer to swim amongst the water lilies
The pond grows thin here, shallow waters and bright reflections

But along the other edges of my face
I see the enemy that crawls slowly closer
I remind him of the fortune that seeps down the drain
While I wash my face in the mornings hour

Now here, like the lost words of a lovers sweet embrace
Like the tiny footsteps that makeup the dust paths across the desert
I fall carelessly in pattern as I saunter along this path
I let the slow beds spoil their innocent laughter
With hands touching hands, faces touching faces

Elbows coming inwards in a bitter withdrawal
Like ghosts that see their reflection one last time
All too short and all to sweet and all too massive
Nobody can really understand that which hasn’t been told
We all feel from within the distance that doesn’t lay the crackers down
Little paths to find their way home after the soldier has been caught

Sing now in the morning of the next phase of life
Sing now as the passive monsters blow out the landscape: serene
Sing along thy empty beaches as they float on home towards the setting sun
Sing on now for the ones that hold their hands out in mercy

Crying after the last golden rays escape the tired pillow’s eyes
Holding onto the blankets that will not let go now

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