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.
There comes a time, and even then we can’t say for certain.
Dressed for Holiday
By Tyler Lucas Mobley
Jettison my darling, find this common wake,
throwback pairs of defining lights, smirking
sky bounds unrequited, dressed for holiday.
Chariots of exacting grace fiddle across our
pendulum planet. Veiled modalities pierced by
opposing ends, cogent leaps of boomeranged
expressions surface over pent up millenia.
Sojourned doubt dances over the void, the
grand swath of limerick contusions, embodied
with gallant strides through our one true vein.
Letters of Measure 