The Abominable Cthulhu Rises Again

What hammer? What chain?

In what furnace is thy brain?

What anvil? What dread grasps

dare its terrors clasp?

He sleeps this night. He sleeps this dead.

In R’lyeh He sleeps, His non-euclidian bed.

Dare you dream? Dare you rest?

Dread Cthulhu has chosen you as His guest.

In what madness? In what dreams?

When the stars are right, you shall gleam.

There is no way out, no sanity.

This Great Old One is all you need.

He controls your mind. You’re His to own.

With Him at your side, you’re never alone.

What shall I do? What is my task?

You must rise with the others, dawn the masque.

What cult? What coven?

Throw the unbelievers in thy oven.

What swamp? What frightful day

will Cthulhu choose to rise again?

Tender are the Buttons

For a poetry assignment, we were asked to read Tender Buttons by Gertrude Stein, and then do an imitation. I'm no Stein, but here is my attempt to capture some of her magic:

BEANS

Beans in a bowl. Faded beans. Faded in a bowl. Super Bowl Rose Bowl bowl of cereal big enough for two.

We let ourselves fade away. Fade away. Blend away. Blend to become one. Strive to become one. One in a pot. One in a bowl.

TOMATO

The flesh is soft the flesh is soft the soft is flesh. These pillows are deadly. Deadly pillows is weapons. I like pillow fights. I like pillow fights. I like pillow fights soft. Feel these pillows soft. Money was for convenience convenience is for money.

POTATO

Potato. Potatoe. Poe Tay Toe. Poe is the Raven. The Raven is dead. Like Poe. Poe is dead. In the dirt. In the dirt. In the brown dirt. Like the potato. Potatoes in dirt. Brown potatoes. Russet Potatoes. You can keep the Yukon Gold that falls. The gold that falls. Falls falls to the dirt. The potatoes. Potatoes in dirt.

A Horse, Of Course, Of Course.

You see a small child perched on a young man's shoulders. A toy T-Rex is being held next his face. The child's smile is wide, and his blonde hair hangs down, shaggy. The man below is also smiling, his dark hair swept to the side.

Quentin yelled, "Yee haw!" as he rode on my shoulders. He had just turned two the weekend before, and I was in town to pay my little nephew a visit. His T-Rex--a toy received at the birthday party that the snow prevented me from attending--walks, roars, and serves as a nemesis in the imaginary world of the toddler.

Brrrrrr!

Growing up in Longview, the sight of snow fall was cause for celebration. "Hey guys, it's snowing! It's snowing!"  Us children gathered around the window, our teacher joining us for a moment before instructing us to take our seats.

Snow represented something fun, something exotic. It meant the possibility of school being cancelled or delayed. It meant snowball fights and building civilizations of snow people. It meant coming back inside, ice melt dripping down the backs of our necks, and sipping a big mug of hot cocoa piled high with mini marshmallows—even if the mix had those little dehydrated marshmallows inside.

Now that I'm older and live in a place where snow is as common as the lentil fields, it has lost its magic. Responsibilities have made snow feel like a nuisance. When Siri tells me about the snow falling in her cold, sterile voice as I roll out of bed at 4:30 in the morning, I groan instead of cheer. It means I have to warm up my vehicle, and brush off its exterior. It means having to wear boots instead of being able to just slip on my Vans. It means having to shovel and salt the walkways when I get to work.

Chocolate-flavored Breakfast-style Shavings

Cinnamon Toast
is a real breakfast item.
Therefore,
Cinnamon Toast Crunch
makes sense.

French Toast,
too,
is a real breakfast food.
So French Toast Crunch
made sense.

There is no Chocolate Toast.
This isn't a thing that exists.
Nutella Toast is a thing,
but that's not quite the same.
When you try to sell me
CHOCOLATE TOAST CRUNCH,
I cringe.
My suspension of disbelief
can only go so far
before
I shake my head and walk over
to the Grape Nuts.

Come and see the freaks!

Choosing to be a human

is the

worst

decision one can

ever

make.

We take ourselves

far too seriously.

Delusions

of somehow holding dominion over

anything—

We don’t even hold dominion over

ourselves

Teeth whitening,

Laser freckle removal,

Asshole bleaching.

This desire to conform

to some standard of

acceptability

is just such a drag.

I should have been a pair of ragged claws

scuttling across the floors of the sea.

Without a care in the world

and no standard adherence.

Night or day?

Doesn’t matter

I have nowhere to be

but where the ocean

takes me.

Then again,

that would mean I

lose out on

my front row seat to

the freak show.

Rules of the Walkway

Rules of the Walkway

Excuse me,
Charles Bro-kowski,
but we are living in a society
here.

Notice how the
cars
drive

on the right hand side?

Everybody does this
because otherwise
people would run into
each other.
Like you did to me.
Walking
down
these
stairs.

I know how hard it is
to both think and prop
your HGH-enhanced thorax
upon your spindly legs,
so I'll give you a tip:

Look in front of you.
Are people flowing
in the same direction as you?

No?

You're in the wrong lane.
Move to your right.