Everything up to that moment, wed reference in the Sequoia gift shop.
Fallen Tree
By Tyler Lucas Mobley
You waited for our company
the lucky couple you chose to
share your last moments with.
Passing unsuspected you give
notice, call our attention to
your final act. We turn to the
sound in the silence to follow.
You say goodbye with a tender
timber, your sparse tip comes
to rest in the fork of another,
caught by lovers branch.
Your rings given to us as the
sound we will hear forever.
Enjoy,
When the Music was Made
By Tyler Lucas Mobley
All is still before you, it never went away,
funny to see how it all occurs today. For to
know one’s self it helps to have eyes, waiting
for the right pair to point at the beginning of
time so this universe could turn in for the night.
It just came together, then it fell apart,
we laughed all the same like we knew
from the start. All points unwrapping
a never ending present, what’s the fuss
you know “it loved to happen.” Spelling
without backspace information piles on
full tray rounding peer, sideways it’ll go.
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.
A door opens inward.
Womb Would’ve Known
By Tyler Lucas Mobley
Shot from a cannon with a cry, hands of anticipation
cradle and rejoice another plummet. Form of impressions
soft to the touch, a bundle of things to come.
Portrait of the whole falls to pieces, boundaries undefined.
Steps taken, shape sought in hammer and chisel world.
Lucky enough to fall into place, still an emptiness fills a space.
Mid puzzle crisis, what is a piece to do?
With the rug gone, clouds appear full of answers.
Wet from the rain one happens a pond,
met with a reflection, mirror of crystal sky.
Peace for piece with a look in the eye,
a portrait framed inside the whole.
The pictures of her mind, the princess and the…
Strolling Pie Fields
By Tyler Lucas Mobley
If you ordered a dream, I know how you’d take it.
Strolling pie fields, punctuated by ponds of boiling ramen.
Well well well what do we have here?
To phrase a feeling, the greatest gift is knowing you.
From light we come, then become all it entails.
Becoming a granular notion, existence a swimming pool.
The world loves it’s making, and deserves to be told it’s beautiful.
The universe brought us together, and together we discovered a universe.
If all the sights found your eyes, would you still let them fall on me?
How lovely for all this to lead to, the many tomorrows with you.
Spawned from a memory of Eli’s 4runner.
Notes to Generation Fortunate Son
By Tyler Lucas Mobley
Fuzzy flags carried off planes
no one needs to ask about.
Spare my eyes the sight
society says to itself.
Protest read aloud the writing on the wall,
a cousin, a brother, a father ties a nation
in a knot no one is sure they should be in.
Growing pains diagnosed from the comfort
of their sacrifice, 40 years later teenagers
returning from a high school lunch at Chipotle
hang out car windows, hands managing the recoil
of machine guns mounted to the chopper they’re
clipped to, because Creedence is playing on max,
Lieutenant Dan taught us to walk again.
Covered by the freedom those died providing
colors fade with the fog of endless war.
Not that anyone notice when times grew slack,
media removed vulnerable to reality’s attack.
All things looking of You
By Tyler Mobley
Ripples trail a seaward vessel
spreading curves, a rhythm we
rolled once or twice.
Dewy garden mornings find web woven
portraits by Picasso legged spiders,
“a fly for the effort.”
Birds gather in honor,
Roman starlings perform under twilight,
fluttering human forms sing songs
of dedication, they knew
you always listened.
A name glimpsed in bubble
breathes held on a tub floor,
before bursting nevermore.
A lasting adieu with
all things looking of you.
Letters of Measure 