Whereabouts Unknown

Best to kick for speed then drop
into the bowl for those longboard
carving runs just as the sun jumps
above the treeline & the quiet is
lulled into degrees of difficulty
w/only the roll of wheels to
sketch where we’ve been all this time
like streets of faceless sounds Anasazi
or Polynesian strum the crosshairs
of territorial spraypaint as would
adorn the caves & ritual snake-runs
of pleistocene or neolithic
proportions layered in rust
or sand out near the eternal edge
of things resigned to
smog bombs of neglect
molotov cocktails for two
& the swaying bamboo chorus
like a seashell clearing its throat