At Nothing Rest (day 1670)

I’ve left my full moon walking the shoreline, skirting the tides that flush out madness awake and away.

Can your heart feel the holy trinity at rest?

Rocks I picked up and felt cursing through my palm left light stains upon my fingerprints I had washed thoroughly before opening my eyes. I laid down and felt the uncomfortable massage upon my twisted back and hoped the pain would soon ease its way back toward the crashing ocean cooling my pride.

Here, from my breasts, a light slowly eroded my choice.

Lightly brushing my consciousness were scattering rocks and squawking seagulls rummaging the midday sun like a busy squirrel exercising it’s memory.

I was gone, and this is what was left.

Rowboat (day 1658)

A sadness which has my heart is the deepest joy I have ever known. A snaking coil in my veins that surges with pressure of an ancient gale, fierce in spirit, surfacing upon it’s vista. I have come to realize I am the coloration, the reminiscent artifact of ashes smearing an impossible black sand beach at the head of the trust waters. My song is what trees sway to, sitting about the shoreline untouched by humanity’s destructive progress and filled with such contrast, from lightness to a darkness deep within the bosom of her mossy embrace. My song reaches to the toenails while standing barefoot upon this cold black sand, embracing wind as it blows every last hair drawn fabric about thy heart. My heart is forever in liberty, just as these black pebbles cackle at retreating waves. My heart is a mariner with a squint of foggy shorelines, and my sadness is forever the rope mooring our rowboat beached upon this black sand beach.

Rowboat-by-Ned-Tobin

Ceiling Lines (day 1627)

Lines upon my ceiling cause me great grief.
They are not parallel.
Their asymmetrical zig-zagging
Cover up cracks that look like
Two dimensional waves along a
Broken shoreline
Which leaves me guessing the next time
One of those waves will come
Crashing into my bedroom
As I stare up wondering the cause.
Some of the lines have even
Made their way down the wall,
Like an infection yet to be quelled,
Striking through the crown molding
And into the mauve like a sealion
At a pebbly beach in autumn.
So I close my eyes and focus on breath.

Night’s Rest (day 1607)

I’m along lines of horizon
Slowly sunk into surrounding hillsides
That luminously cast shadows
Into experiences;
Dock lined shorelines,
Visited all too infrequently
At this ripe hour and season
By speedboats that churn water
In an expedited process of
Annihilating all nature’s fuel
And polluting water masses.
So I’m happy here listening
As straggling Canadian geese
Call and return into formation,
And water gently laps at
Man made structures and flush
Rock lined shorelines
Like a mother gently settling
Her young ones down
For a calm night’s rest.