I don’t understand the gist of this,

the Gigan, nor its tale;

it’s twisted canopy of rhyme-less rhyme

nor rhythm’s warped, unguarded lines

where no Suess is found…

not here, not there.

in fact, not anywhere;

not on a boat,

not with a goat,

not on a plane, a train, or in the rain,

I don’t get the gist—I don’t.

not here, not there,

nor do I care,

to make the effort, as I’ve said…

Although by now

My Gigan you have read.

Hopelessly in love with you

All your flaws seem perfect too

(more…)

What’s your major?
English?! What the heck can you do with that? Teach?!

I never really understood this obsession
with having to choose some approved “profession”
and as professions go, what was wrong with teaching?

I’m going to be a teacher.
College. English. But more than that.

Like so much in life, I was drawn
to the most abused and suffering.

For thirty years, I asked my developmental learners
What’s your major?

I’m going to be a teacher
some would respond
and I would offer a wisened nod.

But what’s your backup plan
Just in case?

[Prompt 7: Gigan]

Happiness is simple

Something as easy as a birthday party could bring a years worth of joy in the matter of one day

Depression is like a well

Sometimes you feel you're at the bottom
Looking up hoping to see a touch of blue
A warm ray of light
Something that will encourage you

Other times you are poised on the edge
Looking down into the dark shimmery waters
And you want to jump
To drown the ache is all that matters

You see it in the distance
Either behind or in front of you
Always there with a goodbye or hello
Most days now you bid it adeiu

Depression is like a well

Carnival of Ghouls (Valkyrie)

Perplexed by the spectacle frightening,
The dreary masses experience enlightening,
Punishment for lives spent crying, self- entitling,
I step forth from the shadows with sharp senses heightening.

‘Roll up, roll up,’ my carnivalesque display to appease,
Your dreadful need for expressionistic debauchery,
Moonlit shimmers on leg’s rifle’s savagery,
Cowering minions losing their bravery.

‘Come see the man-made, human spectacle,
Form of woman fused with machine so delectable,’
With triumph in gait, so not to displease,
I raise my leg to the art so collectible.

Huddling in, panic awry,
My errant gaze catches up with your black, refined eye.
One move swift, the first round released,
A handful of ghouls join the deceased.

Greying concrete painted with crimson fuel,
Forces mice to run from the hawk,
Showtime for my body’s renewal,
My prey I start to stalk.

Lash of whip strikes,
Twitching bodies fall,
As if recently interred.
Lash of whip strikes,
Tearing flesh from the ghouls,
And breaking up the putrid herd.

Culling rife, for you to see,
Another blazing round,
Projectiles and whip,
Rocket from me,
Foxes to the hound.

Inhuman humanity,
Pouring debris,
Intestines and blood hand in hand.
Inhuman humanity,
Little is left of me,
As my destiny is carved in the sand.

He doesn’t keep things forever.
Not pets nor people, Christmas tree bulbs

Nothing is an heirloom to him
but his mirror image
and triple length self publications.

He’s a tricky throw awayer
with his darting eyes, his clever lines

“Oh, you didn’t want that, did you?
It looked so old and worn.

I threw it out for you.”
He doesn’t keep things forever.

He’s a tricky throw awayer,
slight of tongue and quick hair check
all but himself out the door.

Dogs and cats and comfy chairs…
a woman called a fish.

Fruit

Lifes natural source of endorphins.

She hands me a bowl of assorted fruit

Food is her love language.

Oreos

Black and white sandwich cookies,

cream-filled and delicious with milk.

(Even though I’m lactose intolerant).

She knows that’s my favorite.

Sour and gummy candies.

Small boxes of candy

one dollar each

left on the dining table.

No note, but

the lingering care and affection from her.

Each snack she chooses

she chooses carefully.

Thinking, wondering

if I am still the same girl who loves each of those.

I would climb a mountain for you; rocky, steep, and snowy

The mountain would speak to our souls, clouds floating around our heads

We would make the trek to the treacherous peak, silent and together

We would take in the marvelous views, pikas and mountain goats.

We would bake in the sun, even as the snow swirled at our feet.

I would take on this fantastic journey, my body pushed to its limits

I would experience the highs and lows, fear of the great heights

With struggling breaths we would journey on, fighting for the summit

With trembling limbs we would trample on, the path a slippery slope

I would find the strength to tackle this goal, breath coming hard and fast

I would climb a mountain for you, rocky, steep, and snowy

I would take on this fantastic journey, my body pushed to its limits

With no thoughts to our safety, just the ultimate target of accomplishment

I would follow you to the end, feet bruised and back aching

But you would never ask me to climb a mountain with you

Because our paths have never crossed.