Stand Up Steve

In baseball it’s called your summer family, in surfing it’s your winter family, when the ocean awakens sleeping giants. This was early in November.

Stand Up Steve  

By Tyler Lucas Mobley

Paddles up mirroring messiah,

been awhile since we caught up,

as an aging surfer, he’s apprenticing 

under a wave guru up north, one of 

the salty till senile types. “My pop up

is good for a few waves, then I’m just

blowing it. I’ll do anything to stay on a 

shortboard, motioning his paddle at the

monstrosity of buoyancy under foot.

Being able to set that line and go, with 

this, making moch jump as though he

had cinder block feet. A crystalizing

thought, “less resistance, all response.” 

Announced in the manner of mention, 

they let the words hang for a moment

grappling with how minutia of honest

pursuits mirror life at their core. Being

in the world, a deepening of self.  

Our Own Devices

An afternoon of adventure.

Our Own Devices 

By Tyler Lucas Mobley 

Dip into nothing

skipping town, 

Hawaiian slice 

pineapple underground. 

Arms no longer arms, 

but propellers motoring 

into any desired ripple

for a more simple eternity. 

Ocean collaboration

with visual dilation, no

hermit left unshelled from 

an encompassing meld.

Every stone turned from

Bikini Bottom. 

Wooing day satisfies night, 

their love a sight for our eyes.

A light reminder for the striving, 

be back tomorrow for the same 

lesson said the golden teacher.  

Clicking Reel

Clicking Reel 

By Tyler Mobley

Letting out line, mind a clicking reel, wonky

film projector tempting realities to

sprout from skull and politely ask the present 

for a dance, only to ruin her and take her place.  

Sea surface storms about how the heart wants 

if skin would show it, left with throwing rocks 

to ripple the calm, trusting it will return when 

our minds are ready. 

Marble monks on city hall contain all things and 

none with how they hold themselves,

conversing behind our backs, you’d swear on

their rolling eyes, unmoved movers of sacred bust.

Falling as a precious drop onto vacant dune, 

giving life to dust in a flood of visions, that

may last the next rain. 

The Ocean

The Ocean, is there not a more interesting topic than this, when it comes to near by unknown universes?  The ocean has it’s hand in every natural phenomena on Earth’s outer skin.  She expresses herself through her vast interconnected body characterized by her fiery brothers, rock and mental.  She sings an endless symphony of life, from her darkest depths to her tranquil shores, currents and eddies go round like a needle on a record.  Lost below the surface is a world reflecting ours. Communities thrive, balancing the scale in a precise krill to baleen whale ratio.  Infinitely trapped in turmoil,  she is in constant play with the wind and the moon; she cannot be at rest.  In collaboration with the wind she beats up on her younger brother rock.  Wind and waves collide smash rocking changing him over millennia, leaving him jagged and vulnerable.  She is a keeper of treasures, she can hold onto to something longer than a jealous relative.  She will keep your wildest dreams and your most retched nightmare side by side, never seeing one without a hint of the other.  The Ocean she saves me, an escape away from a land locked life, I am free, suspended, at the mercy of her majesty.  She is rich in waves, her most prized possession.  Although she shares them with us endlessly, offering rides on her back, they do not go without consequence, some paying the ultimate price.  The ocean calls upon those who take her lightly, tossing them humbled covered in sand back to shore where they may stay now forever.  You must open up to her, share yourself, be totally at peace then she will begin to reward you.  If you put in the time to understand and appreciate her, she’ll give you everything you need.  This is the story of girl she cried and became the whole world, this is a story of a girl.