The Jive

can you feel it
, the man asked
does it
tap your foot
and
penetrate your soul
does the jive
pattern your heart
and run through your blood
can it
make you feel
make you love
make you
dance
can you feel it, the man asked
does it
vibrate your inner voice
and sing to you
soundless
does every appendage
feel the
beat
and move to the rhythm
does your stomach
mimic the sound
and head pound to the memory
can you feel it, the man asked

Cheryl Concannon




The Trees

In this world, lives are planned like trees; situations branches, leaves, the character you build. When born, your tree has already been seeded, personalities defined. When you die, the leaves sprawling from different situations make one beautiful cluster, for which you are remembered. People whose lives are planned like palms have definite paths to the future. Flowering trees have different paths to get to their top, their future.

A person in this world has to follow all paths trying to fill out his tree, find his top. He follows paths until a leaf, then starts again at a new path. The branch size is not proportional to time, but to impact. The most profound situation will have the longest branch, the largest leaf.

In this world people are placed into two categories, knowers and non-knowers. These categories are undefined, never mentioned in conversation. The knowers assume everybody knows the trees; they can't understand why people are so ambitious. The non-knowers never think their lives could be planned and wonder why some people seem not to take initiative.

"A person in this world has to follow all paths trying to fill out his tree, find his top."

The knowers float through life knowing that things will follow a path. These are the people you meet that seem to have no goals, no direction. They know that their lives will bloom as they're written.

The non-knowers think that they can change their destinies by working harder, by being the best and getting ahead of their peers. These people are very ambitious, have goals and do everything in their power to get higher.

In this world, lives are planned like trees; situations branches, leaves, the character you build.

Cheryl Concannon



Student Gallery | E-Mail Doug at mrdoug@aznet.net and he will pass your comments on to Cheryl.




When the
buzz
goes off
and I manage to
open
my eyes
I slip
into my
costume
of
torture,
my
speedo.

I pull the spandex
over and
stretch
it
around
my
thighs,
squeeze
through and
suction
on this
second
skin
to my
chest.
I draw my
arms
in tight
and
thrust
them
through the
dime
sized holes.


Victory!
the clock
reads
4:35.
I slam the
door,
honk my horn,
and race to
morning practice.
Soon I stand,
huddle
with my team,
on the
arctic
deck,
wearing
skimpy suits
with cheesy
cellulite
spilling
out the
sides,
thinking
of this
tedious
habit,
reminding
myself:
we play to
win.

I look
at the
steamy
water
(like a
doctor's
office)
while
procrastinating
the
inevitable
plunge.
At the first
tingle
of water
creeping through
my toes,
I know
the worse
has
been
endured,
and for
the next hour
and a half the
whistle
will be
God.


80 minutes,
50 minutes,
20 minutes more,
-count down
to daydreams
of
showers
as steamy and
warm
as saunas,
and bowls
with cereal
mounding
to the brim,
soaking in
chilled
milk
slowly
consume my
thoughts
as if
my
lovers.
At five minutes
left,
I feel an
urge,
a supernatural
force
tells me to
jump out,
drive home,
and never
look
back, but I
resist,
I suffer
through the last
grueling, prolonged
five minutes.

Within the
next
ten minutes
it's all a
memory,
another
practice down,
one to be
slashed
off
the calendar,
another step
toward
post-season.

Cheryl Concannon



Will we win?

How much do I care?

Why does the whistle have power?

Does coach cry?


Cheryl Concannon




Student Gallery | E-Mail Doug at mrdoug@aznet.net and he will pass your comments on to Cheryl.