It wasn’t what I intended to write, but it was time.
Mighty Socket
By Tyler Lucas Mobley
If you long to song don’t beat about it,
pick up a stick to believe in limewire.
Mighty socket, the ground beneath our
feet, and it gives us stuff to eat. Flick a
match to the wind, watch it catch and
burn, feel your blood boil, heart of
cosmic drum, around the flame sits
a prism of translucent hue, as a bird
carries a song you carry the clue.
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.
Letters of Measure 