Big Jar Dreamer

Many ways to slice it,

Big Jar Dreamer

By Tyler Lucas Mobley

The big Jar was a dreamer he said without a doubt,

unmatched in all but thinking he was somewhere else.

Then it got the best of him one day the other week,

those around couldn’t pretend to know what went down.

Sprouting lilies as he was a nickel for a share of the dare,

laughing all the same when the sheriff showed his badge, 

he made spaghetti out of town and never looked back, still 

no word was spoken about whose wifes he’d been poken. 

As luck would have it they serve him up a spike, soon it

was turn in or take a hike. How they tell it now when Jar 

refused to come clean is with a wish to have intervened,

because what happened next was something no one had ever

seen. Loaded diamonds for eyes the dreamer gazed thunder, 

with a flick of the wrist their badges were stripped under, 

to where geese critique wakes and wax bellies with jellies, 

found on discrete display with berry unknown origins, their 

hands pat the fabric they hadn’t seen since service was sworn, 

stripped of sacred identities they dissolved to the realm of

forgotten memes to hang around and reminisce about 

bygone relevance. A chariot pulls up Jar staggers in, sirens

give way to night, no phone home in a red and blue snare,

the window reflects the cold steel around his wrist though 

he knows nothing of it, to Jar they are soft, pink, fluffy, and

full of excitement, like what’s in your head, merrily merrily

merrily…  

Mollusk Longings 

Title reference in Paul Murray’s not a lecture in my substack.

Mollusk Longings 

By Tyler Lucas Mobley

How wants are a certain want, unexplained

from a heart full of roman candles, that fly

to what it desires most egging you to follow

their light. The same light seen by nuns who run 

away with visiting recruits from barracks in far 

away places, and not a hint of hesitation in her 

step as she boards the plane because they know 

it to be true. Yes, how true, if it’d only take hold now, 

rush us away to the night that would last forever, 

chew the fat, toasts the stars, for whatever reason

right now life makes sense, because it was all there 

contained in the night, giggling alongside us till 

separation ceased and you realize you are the one

there is no spoon, the blunt is in your hand just token 

for your thoughts. The overlords milking our morphic 

resonance cheers our utter existence. 

Nodding Praise Our Annual Phase

It’s that time of the season

Nodding Praise Our Annual Phase

By Tyler Lucas Mobley 

Variable, that patch across the way, 

by and large the same day to day, 

ever sly trends reflect the mood of a

given day. Coaxing light helps heaps 

grow, come winter fresh snow, puddles 

tell of weeks long rain, the birds sing

their song round the edge so, you’d 

wonder if the world hadn’t left us alone, 

a note on the table, I’ll be back in a couple 

of weeks. A call dropped? No I’m still here, 

just let this moment be. The birds sang again

today, and the world let this moment be. 

Salute-in-Song

A fun to figure, try to pronounce the title as one word.

Salute-in-Song 

By Tyler Lucas Mobley 

Come rare through all that is above,

condense in style from ingredient isles

a selective chance you knew it had to be. 

Sprung when the space was right, or was it 

time to have a stretch? Bound to distance, an

explanation of all else; a here to there till the 

curve flattens out. Harmonics surfing sound, 

all there is to do is play.