Sk8
August 20, 2011 by at 2:35 pm
To hurl—on wheels and board—oneself upon
A curving plane that uses gravity
To bring a blending of geometry and bone
Is one way to describe the breaking dawn
Of simple unexpected sanity
That turns the wheels and board one’s self’s upon
When dropping in and tuning out the spawn
Of shallow crowded life’s cacophony
To bring a bending of geometry and bone
Pythagorean-like when now it hits the brain
Reflecting back from later history
To hurl the wheels and boards these thoughts are on,
To wonder at one’s youth and scattered train
Of visions climbing caves of memory,
To blink at blinding light’s geometry and bone,
To light the heavens up, undone, alone,
For one sweet moment’s flagrant mystery,
To hurl—on wheels and board—oneself upon
The burning blending of geometry and bone.
Portrait of the Poet as a Young Skate Punk
August 14, 2011 by at 12:53 pm
That’s me in the blue helmet, age 16 …
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