Art of Skateboarding

I. 

Skateboarding is a manifesto

II.

"You're a skateboarder…

And, here I thought you 
Were so noble"

III. 

"And so they
Kick, push. Kick, push. 
Over their shoulders
They swore 
They'd never look." 

IV.

And, I mean, I lifted
My first kick-flip
Into my gut, 
You might not.

Just ride wild:
slam it, pop it, 
grip it, flip it

Whatever 

V. 

I like the oozing flatland.
To push into the waves of
Drying rims of puddles,
Driveway slopes, gradients

To sweep around pebbles
And protruding Ohio bricks 
Being quick at the edges

Of switch turns, twists,
Rhythmic, powerful 
Sweeping momentum,
The surf of Ohio rising;

VI. 

Approaching the hill's brink
I curve slowly, a careful lover, 
Closing the distance between 
My Malcolm X wheels 
And the steep by which 
They are yoked. And I drop

VII.

Brett Barnhouse and me 
Kickin' 180 bonelesses
Off my neighbor's 3-Set. 

Big Willie and me 
Hittin' the streets under
Constellations of lights,
Buggin' out when the cops came.

VIII.

My quiet thoughts 
Are carved with the zeal
Of concrete slabs and red bricks
Rolled under the real black 
Of my polyurethane wheels;
I snake down the unsettled 
And otherwise untrodden 
Bedrock of my foundation.


Centrifugal Magnet

I've been attracted
to you

and've orbited your voice

but now, i utter,
i try to use words
that don't sound
so much like 
images that don't look 
so much like
                structure 
                that doesn't stand out
                   so much like (i am

finding that feelings
like mine
belong in life lessons, 
in spirituality and 
in kisses

          that rupture 
                                     the edges
                                     of my voice

          (quiet, quiet

-ly, I tell myself,
i can speak 
loud)er 
than talking like
looking like
appearing like 

your love that left me 
silent and wanting