For They Would Rust (day 2664)

If your answers solved
What mystery remains between lives,
Where would our trial be held?
Where would we lay down our tools
Dear for this unquenched need
To work until our knees are sore
And our feet curl up at the seams
Of our understanding, our dreams,
For they would rust
Lost in a gaze of submission
Caught by the hand that pierces all hearts.
I would be lost
For I compete with a memory
Complete and detail oriented.
I ask not for your question,
I speak not for your silence
I read not for your passage
I hold not for your gift
I growl for your soul
That bites off what it believes it can chew
I snarl for your essence
That rips apart belief structure
And I cry at the foot of all you have become
For I know not how to unbecome
What I had never waited to be.

Freckles and Moles (day 2378)

What would it feel like to have your neck in my lips
Your skin so close to my heartbeat.
Would your eyes look up at mine
From the top of your conscious gaze?
Would it be your fingertips or mine
Tracing entangled veins, tender areas
Upon a dreamscape of freckles and moles
A back opening up like hidden pages of a precious diary.
Would we’d twist and roll
Like two logs in a well kept fire
Burning as slow as we could
So each new ember could linger upon our tongues?
Would sensations erupt here?
Down our traced spines
While our roots began to slowly grow tighter
In a full surrender to our nature.

Wrinkles (day 2243)

I patch your memories
With worn hands of leather;
Ancient wrinkles as a wind,
Smile from deep within.

Left hand to caress
Jaw line of your chin.

How lucky for the sun
To be stuck in orbit
With the moon,
How lucky for my star to be
Same sky as your moon.

Angel laying on warm sands
Of an Eastern sunrise
Morning gaze my heart away.

Patchwork of a life to be –
Fresh forever in the sea;
Love’s embrace and my wrinkles
Smile from deep within.

Guiding Star (day 2236)

Carry my soreness to the stars.

Once a dream where I believed
Where I looked North to find my light
The loon gave me my deepest hope
And I fell asleep alone.

Wind came and woke my dream
A start but I held strong
To a lonely birch tree waving slowly
As sun rose my heart again.

By midday with tea so cool
A flock of geese led my gaze
I floated on the shore’s tranquil
A willow shading as I heard your name.

To the North I looked for my guiding star.

Dusty Socks (day 2228)

Onward my heart
To the soaring distances I’ve been dreaming here of
To the leafless gaze
The toothless grin
A window frame caught amidst a midsummer storm.

And if fractions should call against pure chaos
That leave impressions upon my spine that bends over just so
Let the memory of what has always been past
Echo longingly into the recesses of my soul,
Let winds blow my hair around and into my eyes
So that my remaining senses cannot see, cannot hear, cannot feel,
But sing like the babbling brook
That chaos has dipped her toes into.

And here I will become
A saucer for sorrows over a campfire smouldering
A spirit stung with madness so crippling
This flag that has been chosen to fly
Shall linger softly
Like the ocean breeze that watches your excitement gather
Upon smooth rocks with dusty socks
And a sealion dipping below.

Of Delicacy (day 1820)

To wish away cruelness
Tap against night’s rain
Linger in a soft gaze
Float about a name.

A paw against green grass
Sound amidst deep silence
Precious moments first awake
Gospel of harmony.

Hand upon arching back
Soul touch tingling neck
Gaze upon a sweet moon
Mist upon dark sea.

Of Delicacy by Ned Tobin

Be My Lover (day 1805)

Why can’t you be my lover?
Why cant skies call us
Hand in hand
On a lazy Sunday
From beneath checkered sheets
And last nights crumbs?
Why can’t your body tangle
Wrap the heart of my smile
So tightly in a slow gaze kind of way?
Why can’t a sidewalk be
Our waltz through a park
Hand in hand and stopping
To watch two swans bathe themselves?
Why can’t our tub be lit by candles
With a glass of wine to share
From a lazy notebook dream
On a midnight kind of Saturday?
Why can’t our every day
Hold our dreams just so,
Where routine is charming and light
And the tips of your fingers
Remind me of the frost on morning’s flowers?
Why can’t we share memories,
In a caravan of love?

Thoughts for a Girl in High Country (day 1717)

If a robin came and sang to me
For you I’d wish my ears to be
Lifting lightly with a thousand sprouts
The reddest ribbons of my soul.

If a sparrow circled above my gaze
For you I’d wish it’s wings to be
Spring is here as I’d look out
Along the valley, home at last.

If a bluejay held it’s head up high
About the post up in the sky
For you I’d wish a seat beside
Ever last, a Queen, my pride.