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.