Worn Sun (day 2246)

I watched the sun set today
My worn legs took me to the edge of the world
Where I ran my finger over horizon lines
That achingly waltzed a deep pink hue of gold.
The last drops of sunlight are transfixing
They speak of ancient willows blowing in the wind,
Of ancestors who worked fields with their hands,
Of patio chairs rocking back and forth
Transfixed by the first sips of a perspiring cider.
Then, darkness calls;
Outstretched hands tracing my jawline
Caressing my sore back with nimble fingers
Jarring my consciousness with fading memories
Like static visions lifting stars into place
And a wind dying down for rest.

I Cannot Believe in More (day 2097)

I cannot believe
What continually turns me around
I’ve got ten thousand wounds
Pierced through my broken soul
I’ve spent every summer
In the winter of my heart
And the coldness always warms up
What has forever been alone
I pull apart my chest
To reveal my ancient glacier
Upon which my survivor
Wags back and forth his tail
I separate every bit of sunlight
From creeping darkness setting in
And I’m left with an aggressive snarl
Cause I’m out looking for more.

Tracing Blurry Lines (day 1844)

My eyes have become the blurry vision
Of what they once used to see,
Fading sunlight in a white-washed
Washing machine.
The deck has become stained
With forgotten footsteps,
Leaving only smears
As marks on my mind.
And I delicately touch rough bark
Encircling our plum tree,
Tracing lines from hither to tither
Like the vision I once used to see.

Tracing Blurry Lines by Ned Tobin

Settling In (day 1726)

I don’t quite remember the day that it happened
But two by two they fell
Two by two the large trees that had circled my soul
Started thundering and crashing and heaving and falling.
And I looked up.
I craned my neck and looked at the new gap
Projecting sunlight this way and that,
Streaming little bits of another world
And catching particulate matter suspended in mid air.
My footsteps stopped.
My heart beat as my ears slowly identified the noises
I had so tirelessly huffed away,
Keeping a pace to get somewhere I didn’t know
And didn’t even have a reason to get to there.
So I stopped.
As it all came crashing down and whispers screamed louder,
As honeysuckles sprouted and ivy reached,
As leaves crunched and blossoms bloomed I stopped,
And that’s when I settled in.

Forecast (day 1646)

This is the forecast
Slipped on the sunlight
And landed on a wave.
We carried emotions
In rainy weather shadows
And in half of a heartbeat
Hope came and held up a chance.
Secrets were too softly;
Heartache came too lightly;
If I was a preacher I’d have
Called the kids all home.

Rusty (day 1546)

I put into words the last drops of sunlight
That left my supine soul wandering alone
Face up on an old two-track dirt road
By a rusty water reservoir
Near the outskirts of town.
For me, I couldn’t understand the capacity
Of one single ray of sunshine
That drifted on from that barren landscape
Of my calmly coiled fingers.
I drew a large circle encircling my two nipples
Nearly touching my navel
– Which had the mark of an ancient blood line –
In order to continue calculating
My numbing heartbeat’s instinct
That would lead me from this enclosing darkness
Into a fiery nether region
I had witnessed during a tremor.

Rusty by Ned Tobin

A Proper Man’s Time (day 1381)

Darker abstracts of our life
Face open windows
When calms begun once again.

In a proper man’s time
There’s a short road to freedom,
In a proper man’s time
A line’s lost in old wisdom.

Could the full moon retreat life,
Could it catch hold of time?
When the blinds keep a blowin’.

In a proper man’s time
There’s a short road to freedom,
In a proper man’s time
A line’s lost in old wisdom.

Old dog’s been here resting
Against the old wooden door.
Got his head in the sunlight,
Open window no more.

image