Ode to Cactii (day 2440)

Your prickly spine
Prickles my spine
In a rush against the senses
How can nature be so seamless
So soothing in times of need
Yet out of her
Births aggressive opposition
Protection in sharply fine armory
One that stops each passerby
In awe and reverie
Looking on to comprehend
How such can exist amidst the sun
Amidst a sea of warm winds
And lizards who lazily
Pass by taking caution
Yet dare not touch nor approach too close
Respecting the sentinel
Standing tall, standing strong
And playing its role
In nature, steady,
Sandy roots and resevoir.

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.

Rising Star (day 2245)

I watched a star rise up today
– Reflections on my mind.
I sat down to remember a while,
Excited as I was,
What recently I had so forgot:
Love had so many ways to me.
My ancestors were running free!
My garden had overgrown so much!
So much I had to feed,
So much there was to intertwine
Amidst my very spine
That I was left, flushed,
Upon a star beside my mind
And a memory was three.

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.

The Ancient Sword That Stole Away With You (day 2195)

If I could be the ancient sword
That stole away with you
One waltz that takes us merrily
To the sea so free.
Each bond you felt that held you back
I’m your liberating sharp
Whimsically eager at your call
Lightly laying aside ageing leaves
Floating our minds upon the breeze.
For your sup I’d fix your cut
Sliced so fine, no toil to chide
A glass of wine to ease your mind
Relax upon my sturdy spine
Your head upon my shoulder.

A Leaf (day 2188)

Today I watched a vine unravel it’s spine
From around a savory leaf
It lightly lay it’s beating pulse
Upon a trembling leaf
And smiled as it moved up and down
Like a fox on the prowl
I watched the leaf flaunt it’s curve
And bend into the pulse
To which the vine
Gave everything
To curl it’s furthest tip
Which lingered long
About delectably exposed veins
Sliding down to the delicate joint
That held the leaf to the branch
As a suckling lifeline,
And plucked the leaf to devour it.

Ode to a Forest Tree (day 2115)

Every step you carry with me
A fragrance wafting so free
Your spine tingles the very clouds
Surrounding me, which I see
Which I love and become one
Of every day a deep inhale
That reminds me of pure ecstasy
A true embrace
A truth I remember and carry home
To set my mind upon the ledge
Of your clear visage.

Cottonwood tree - Ned Tobin

My Arbutus Tree (day 1789)

I’ve wasted the jewels of my heart
On my arbutus tree, left
As bark peels my solemn movements
Into a windy road
Lightly misting with a dark mystery
Of dusk setting in
After a long day traveled.
I cannot see for the light,
I cannot hear for the wind,
I cannot feel for my fingers
Have started to scratch too idle
At my knees, left
So bare of a kind woman’s touch
And settled on my mind
With gnarled wisdom in the spine
Of my arbutus tree.

Yellow (day 1570)

Shake your hands little man
Rumble rumble rumble.
Shock proof and submerged
I’ve become a yellow alien
Lost in a foreign land.

Shake it in a glass pint of feel good yellow
Until it hurts so hard nutshell
There begins quite a rumble.
Put your guns outside now,
The blood is run down.

Bitter is the agent of change;
A sour heart upon edges of my spine.
My yellow in the midst of your confusion.
An iron, coyly, in a state of disconnect
And my flattening ceases, rumble rumble.

I hope you found the keys –
Open sitting etched wooden door.
Explanations come out
Flight from a thousand monarch butterflies
In a thousand shades of yellow.