Poetry: Scream and Sing the Chorus Again
From: Pull of the Sun
http://pullofthesun.wordpress.com/2011/04/26/scream-and-sing-the-chorus-again/
Madrid is Melancholy
A Spaceship on Rocky Ground
Showing posts with label Skateboarding. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Skateboarding. Show all posts
Sunday, March 4
Friday, October 22
Bombing 'Stub' Stewart State Park
I feel the impact of flying insects when my hands skim the breeze.
Shooting along downdrafts, the birds are on their way from above and will soon flap around my head.
Birds have wings, so aren't as gravity bound. I have long-boned arms with knobby elbows and leaden feet, riding a bamboo and hardwood plank on wheels aptly named Gravity Super-Gs.
As the birds bomb the bugs, snatching them from the air around my head, I bomb the curving asphalt path through the trees of Oregon's "Stub" Stewart state park.
Swooping, drifting, and diving, we dine on winged insects like distant relatives engorging themselves at a Country Buffet. Except: no line, no waiting -- food accessible from every direction.
Only the birds enjoy and thrive on this feast, while I try to maintain balance as I spit wing, leg, and thorax from between my teeth. Grit black, tastes like upcoming yak.
It's the beauty, it's the speed. Me and the birds in our kaleidoscope of constantly changing colors, shadows, and shapes.
Shooting along downdrafts, the birds are on their way from above and will soon flap around my head.
Birds have wings, so aren't as gravity bound. I have long-boned arms with knobby elbows and leaden feet, riding a bamboo and hardwood plank on wheels aptly named Gravity Super-Gs.
As the birds bomb the bugs, snatching them from the air around my head, I bomb the curving asphalt path through the trees of Oregon's "Stub" Stewart state park.
Swooping, drifting, and diving, we dine on winged insects like distant relatives engorging themselves at a Country Buffet. Except: no line, no waiting -- food accessible from every direction.
Only the birds enjoy and thrive on this feast, while I try to maintain balance as I spit wing, leg, and thorax from between my teeth. Grit black, tastes like upcoming yak.
It's the beauty, it's the speed. Me and the birds in our kaleidoscope of constantly changing colors, shadows, and shapes.
Sunday, September 26
Time to Think about Us
First, the demons were here roaming and romping.
Then, the small things came flipping and flopping. Gathering and growing they chased the demons deep into the night.
Next, the dishonest Zurvan, ever present; he who had first agitated all still life said forcefully, "See how it moves forward like a river? You cannot stop it or even understand it."
And the smallest bits, those least bound by his illusions, ever present, giggled from many places at once. Their ricocheted mirth leaving clues for the humans who would follow long after the newly growing first flipity flopeties had overtaken the Earth.
Then, the small things came flipping and flopping. Gathering and growing they chased the demons deep into the night.
Next, the dishonest Zurvan, ever present; he who had first agitated all still life said forcefully, "See how it moves forward like a river? You cannot stop it or even understand it."
And the smallest bits, those least bound by his illusions, ever present, giggled from many places at once. Their ricocheted mirth leaving clues for the humans who would follow long after the newly growing first flipity flopeties had overtaken the Earth.
Bombing the Hill at Stub Stewart
I feel the flying insects in the air when my hand skims the breeze.
This tells me the birds are coming from above, shooting along downdrafts, and will soon flutter and flap around my head.
This tells me the birds are coming from above, shooting along downdrafts, and will soon flutter and flap around my head.
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