This is an awesome article BTW.
Anyone with a slight interest in our
uniquely subversive revolutionary skateboard , art & cultural movements #OnTheRes and #OffTheRes needs to read @Skateism@ghost_parking
So we filmed an awesome mini-doc w @A_Buchanan here in San Carlos AZ titled @themysteryofnow. See it when you can. AND THX @Skateism for writing an article about its reach , influence, scope and message
Here we are now...old-
We’re battered-our legs bow like cowboys- we creek as walk through the world we’re surrendering-
We laugh like barrel riders-
We like the steady aches of our restless, collected mistakes-
We are here alone- all in pieces and all together.
#poem
It’s rare lately- finding myself in a moment like this- already thick with the pitchy sweetness of nostalgia- of lightening bugs- known jokes- stars and fields on fire- of hand brushing hand and held breath- whispering softly that the dog’s coat is brindle- is tawny.
En route to the pediatrician
In an old Colt-
Roads eclipsed from washpan ruts to frost heave veins-
The hatch of the truck in front flies open spilling boxes of potato chips into the dust before us- never slowing-
We’re brightest in victory- we cannot die .
This city’s history of approximate war- war is always present- even in the staircase of your old building- the urine stained streets of Sunday morning- lying on your bed- pen strokes across my back in the lamplight-
Old love on the radio- I can look into you- I can always leave.
Something was wrong-
a creeping darkness- I felt it when we spoke- I felt it whenever I crossed the county line- when you talked about heaven-
An unseen heavy web strung like a canopy over a crumbling postindustrial town- marinating in addiction-
Let’s talk about your death-
There is a cemetery- I slept in pain & alcohol on soft moss- Wrapped in an old infantry jacket of rough canvas- too thick for the mosquitos- One night I thought the corpses almost had me- deep in their clutches-
One night I trashed the house of your new lover-
& waited
& slept
Wept at night-
On the porch of an art school party-with a collapsible staircase to slip into addiction-
I walked her home around 2am- past parked cop cars- through streets where they’ll steal your means of creation-
She was a survivor/she was their prey- even now I want revenge.