last peom before winter

Okay, this one is, how to put it nicely now, old and not quite so relevant, and it has been discarded again from the manuscript, but I still like it's sardonic esotericness (not a word I know:), and the meditative (yet poignant) gaps between action and reaction... I'm sure we've all been there, have an understanding, and I'm almost certain someone will rise above the din and find the flave of this piece.


while she’s eating Caesar Salad

Calmly, the water in her glass
glances at a pair of hands clasping
that blurred face. Everything unfolds
amid condensation and steam,
becomes harder to see.
Behind her architect-lips
the window in a small restaurant
stands alone, like a buoy
lifted in the harbour
beneath the sky’s derogation.
Stars begin to peel
the busy unnamed walkway,
a little broom comes clean,
sweeps the ghost in a grand view
that lingers longer than a wedding reception.
Is it her, hers? That hint of queenly grace,
a wiping of oil, flavour, from a fingernail,
a spear, an open wound?
I'm relying on a promise
that doesn't protest, a dream upheld
by the crisp hearts
of triple-washed vegetables.
Is it only the earth’s motion
that doesn’t evade emotion?
That passes the living into daylight?
Where do her eyes shift, her lashes blink?
On the inside, in that moment when
even the tiniest action is decided
she is always first to move, to face
the middle of a room.
She measures the soul
of every magazine’d myth,
the knife-edge of romance,
and a sandal touching her toes
abolishes the stained spot
on an old carpet.
She asks, what would be done
if I wasn't here? And her clothes
disintegrate from her shoulders;
her skin becomes earthly and mute,
a garden, an oasis, a zoo?
Perhaps the eyes of an anteater
are flowers polishing
another carving of this vision…
Where could I stare?
What petals will adapt the supple massage
of her blinking? On the white tablecloth
her bones do not seem real.
They are silenced,
like parts of a meal already discarded,
cutlery, vines, olives chosen
from the right branch.
Peace is only peace if she cannot
find an angel piling rodents
in the laneway: oh,
she says, those are not for us
to dispose of... To remember.
Her hands descend, intertwine,
becoming a distinctive touch
that twirls within
the grip of dour pink fingernails.
The promise of being
(and walking together)
has yet to render this moment
more meaning, and she conjures
her own fate loudly.
A moth, it flickers, behind her,
like darkness and a stake-burnt martyr,
or a child on the boardwalk
who begins to act the same way,
as though there is only an aftermath,
and no splinters in the wood.

The BilboGarbi Bus

Yes, I´m here in the Euskal´s biggest hub, beginning... it's a little early for jet lag, a little early for running a race, for Japanese tourists drinking Corona and smoking endless cigarettes. And last but not least a little early for the pack of "Oregonners" discussing eight plus nine, Euros, "conversion rate, huh?", and other budgetary deficiencies. A little early for the crowd of museumers mesmerized by gold sails, spiders, and stomach turning excitement, everyone agog (gug?): "Can I have a bite of yours since you had a bite of mine?" Love, so few croissants and so many calories!

I wonder how that race is going, where it ends? I wonder if they use paper cups, electronic mats, where they put them when they're done? Do I wish I was somewhere near the bottom, the front, the middle? Do I need to find a bike, or the bus to Santander and Pamplona? Anywhere else with bulls and crags?

Machinery pounds and ponders, every brick...

for anyone who has run in (or been to) Lisbon

Running the Coast


poem 6. Lisbon


They began here, Belem,
believing, (they’d discover),
long ago a plank exposed
and every step the wind cooled
was given aloft
to God and Reign. What was
the travelling mind
inspired to abjure?
What palpable whim?

Not all are men
raising the same banners
now. Crowns and medals
appear between breasts,
bridges sink so low
that a slight flick of the jaw
will enable a long indulgent
drink. Only the coarsest of sailors
doesn’t sip an entire life.

I begin here too, aground,
shivering, nothing to unearth
but the Tagus’s tide
and Henry the Navigator
demarking the last of a million
goose bumps. His compass,
pointing freely, so real
in stone because he and the clouds
could never settle these shores.

I begin with a mast and sails
tendered like rain, (sideways).
The wind is a woman with a camera
that cannot be focused,
only my jib-angled torso
moving past restaurants
advertising the “New River”
(and a monument
that doesn’t open until noon).

another sign

splendid autumn day... a few deep gray clouds, a little wind, chance of local shower, yet lots of sun and vitamins needed. easy warm-up and stretching, some strides, pliometrics and main workout:

3 x (2x800, 1 x400) on 4:30 (so decent amount of rest)

5 minutes between sets (lots of rest because the "jogger" needed it, haha :)


set 1 = (3:30, 3:28, 1:33), felt easy
set 2 = (3:26, 3:21, 1:33), still bouncing along
set 3 = (3:10, 2:54, 1:20), felt great, back tightened a bit, last 400 was solid.

wisdom? forethought maybe?

near the top of the long run's last hill a just-past-toddler girl, ignoring her mother's pleas to stay away from the road, asks me, where are you going?

time / zone

long toot around town again, and it almost felt like I was runner... even after 45 minutes there was still a little spring in my step, i was almost in "the" zone, and time did not matter...

0;24:10 -- 5.1k 1:00:00 -- 12.8k 1:17:00 -- 16.1k

windy and more cool than last time. maybe i don't like the heat?

nah.

I remember now...

why I haven't been swimming, since about last December.

After just two workouts -- and I use the term workout so very loosely ;) I can barely raise my left arm above my shoulder... sharp, pointy -- pain!!! I will try one more workout, all swim, drill and / or kick, no pull, as I think that's what is causing it, before I go to physio. Okay maybe two more workouts... then physio.

The good news is that I had a fantastic run session on Sunday morning at the new school, (it's well past the old school where touch football, beer, and doobies were being passed around), had to shimmy the lamppost and climb the fence, then sneak between the trees onto the new-new rubber track... k, i didn't really have to sneak around as I think I have "permission" to use it, but it's true there is a lamppost and a fence that is locked to keep the skateboarders, rollerbladers, dog-walkers, and ne'er-do-well kids from ruining it again.

The goal was to do the first interval very easy, say half-mar pace, the second one 10k pace, and the third somewhere between 5k pace and all out, not sure what all out is these days (except for the first set, meaning the third 1k which was a bit slow so as not to aggravate the b-a-d b-a-k so early in the workout). It was windy, a bit cool, and there was geese and poop all over the field and on parts of the track, the inside lane even, so I guess I ran a bit further than intended:

3 x 1k (4:40, 4:33, 4:18) on 5:30 -- 3mr
3 x 800 (3:40, 3:32, 3:23) on 4:30 -- 3mr
3 x 600 (2:30, 2:21, 2:13) on 3:30 -- 2mr
3 x 400 (1:35, 1:28, 1:24) on 2:30 -- 2mr
3 x 200 (:45, :41, :39) on 1:30

Not bad eh, and with my speed and forcefulness I scared those darn geese away... good circuit training afterwards and thankfully no sharp pointy pains in my lower back.

run long 2day

it was

slower than slow

south wind

hilly hot

noisy

(roads) dusty

uneven

pain?

it beats

the couch with raised feet

positioned pillow

14.2 km in 71 minutes...

once upon time...

oh yeah,

not allowed to reminesce,

once upon a time

not so long ago actually

i couldn't run

more than 20 minutes

without stopping

to stretch

or abandon the route

it beats

the heart

The Manuscript Contents

Harbouring


footprint


Running the Coast

1. Pula
2. Turku
3. Present Island
4. La Grande Motte
5. Barcelona
6. Lisbon
7. Jardim do Mar
8. Philipsburg
9. Toronto
10. Midland
11. Tiny Beaches Road
12. Collingwood
13. Owen Sound
14. Fredericton
15. Quebec
16. The Montreal Rowing Basin
17. Irun
18. Bled
19. Malta Lake, Poznan
20. Panormos
21. Lake Bernard
22. Midland (reprisal)



The Sky Harbours

Pearson
Ferihegy
Schipol
CDG
Heathrow (holding)
YFC
YUL

St. John’s
Lisbon
Funchal
Pescara
Skiathos
Pearson (reprise)
Phoenix


Salvage

1. The Wye River (2004)
2. Victoria Harbour and Port McNicoll (2004)
3. Collingwood (2003)
4. Owen Sound (2003)
5. The Bad River and The Fingerboard Islands (2003)
6. Toronto Harbour Looking West (2005)
7. Toronto Harbour Looking East (2005)
8. Halifax (2006)
9. Salvage, 20 / 25 (2000)
10. Water Street, St. John’s (2003)
11. Sept-Isles (2005)
12. Montreal from above The Lafontaine Tunnel (2005)
13. New York (2005)
14. Manhattan at Night (2006)
15. Bermuda (2005)
16. Vancouver (2006)
17. The Wye River (1972)



From a Bridge

Holiday (and everyone is gone)
what John told us at a restaurant in Santana
Concession Fog
Seen Once
Perfect View
Ride
Returning to Port
Along a North Shore Fairway, Hamilton Harbour
** * h * **
The Barber from Palermo talks about Running



ambition

back for real... my back is real

Spent some time on another space. Now back, just in time for autumn training. A half-marathon perhaps or some race in Europe. As for the lower back, it is still the same, neither good nor bad, but better when I do my exercises twice or three times daily.

Next post is poetry. Tonight is a long run.

return to the old bog

Sorry all, marshy it is, haha, some typos are worth repeating. So I've been too busy getting my book together and getting my back fixed up. As of now the book is good and the back, well I'd say I need a new spine but that would be too witty! Hopefully I will be published and racing again this year. New pics coming soon too!