Monday, October 26, 2009

the 23 psalm

Sometimes words flow out
In streams. Like jets of water
From the hoses by the track
Icy. Grass flavored on my
Like creeks of peace
Making rivets in my face
He restores my soul

Other times, words are beats
Drum drum drum
Stop. Stitch. Short.
Staccato dreams, like incoherent
Phrases. lost in my head or trapped in
Being trampled at breakneck speed.
Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow

Then there is
Summer in a sailboat
Stung by jellies in the
Alive places. Where dolphins
Are too shy to admit they
Stop. Start. Stop. Start.
Stucatto. Come when we sing
Sailor songs at the top of our lungs.
Now we are at the
Smoother melody for

The lord is my Sheppard. I shall not [wait till the
hose water taste and the dolphins wink]
I shall not want.

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

How to find motivation for running 3 miles without stopping

A true story.*

Easy, my feet are tense and pulsing on the concrete, my hair bouncing in a pony tail and my usual threat to cut off my intensely long hair because it’s getting everywhere. I’m talking to this guy running right next to me. We’re laughing at something and jumping over flowerbeds and trying to get as close to the sprinklers as possible without actually leaving the sidewalk. Until I see the American Legion building at the
I mile
Ok, push Mallory. Just until that flower bed right past the legion. Then you can stop. I achieve flowerbed status, quite proud and breathing hard with an extremely and unattractively red face- and then this guy notices I’m slowing down. He then proceeds to jog BACKWARDS front of me and cocks his head to one side. Gives me a little smile and says “you stopping?”
Heck no.
New strength magically appears. There is no stinkin way I’m wimping out with him jogging BACKWARDS. Just don’t think about the pain Mallory, one step at a time. I need a distraction.
“So how far are we running today?”
“uh… I don’t know. This track runs like 3 miles if we don’t turn into the neighborhood. And I worked all day today so I’m super tired and I probably won’t.”
2 miles
The Hallelujah Chorus began ringing in my ears. He’s only running 3 miles! I can do that! I think? Sure I can. Oh, I’m in pain again. We’re passing a little house with a picket fence. Cute. Wait, how am I supposed to appear cute and girly when I’m sweating like a man and my hair looks like something blonde exploded on my head!? This is not working. Maybe I can compensate by saying something smart. Drat! I can’t think and run at the same time… I gotta slow down…
He turns around AGAIN. Ugh. I’m slowing down, Mr. backwards jogger superman of all running. You win.
“I thought you said you were getting in shape?”
What. He said what?!?! Oh no. that did not just happen. My legs suddenly have revived energy. I think I’m going to puke if I take one more step. I think I can’t breathe. You know what? I think I don’t care. There’s no way I’m slowing down!

3 miles


*sort of.

Saturday, October 10, 2009

Visions of the Street

a heavy eyelid on the verge of falling
one sleepy little head
stoops to pick up garbage
the street like a dead thing at night
a dead thing that won't rise

"light"said another sleepy head
to a rat in the gully
"I once met the man who said to the LORD
'i'm a believer help my unbelief'
he wore suits to church and drove a green suburban.
then i went to the doorstep of the Sadducee
and there he said to me
he awaits the Kingdom like his sunday paper
slow deliberatly.
I had no chance to buy a paper to read.

no one has spoken to me.
"on the dead street.
he spoke to a rat."
no one has spoken to me."

O LORD thou pluckest me out