04-01-2026, 12:54 AM
(This post was last modified: 04-01-2026, 12:55 AM by RiverNotch.)
Patagonia
The last of the giants lived on the eastern slopes
of the southern tip of the Andes, far from the plains
most men of shorter stature called their home.
Only every so often would he descend,
all to relieve a most essential urge:
not just to find a mate, but to beget.
Since myths alone could wrinkle him, his youth
proved suit enough for marks more erudite,
though he was not above the odd abduction;
still, there were certain lines he would not cross,
such that he always singled out the shortest,
the ones least likely to have him for a sire.
His crop, then, would deplete at each excursion
until he found whole tribes of men too tall
and farther did he have to travel searching
until he found all homeward courses lost.
He wandered for so long that all his urges
were overpowered by the urge for home,
even the urge to eat, the urge to sleep,
the urge to grant his legs a moment's rest,
so when he finally reached his cherished peaks
both his knees buckled. He fell headlong to the earth
and burst to a gold dust shower as he crashed,
whence scattering the gift for which his seed
would, in a crueller epoch, be bled white.
The last of the giants lived on the eastern slopes
of the southern tip of the Andes, far from the plains
most men of shorter stature called their home.
Only every so often would he descend,
all to relieve a most essential urge:
not just to find a mate, but to beget.
Since myths alone could wrinkle him, his youth
proved suit enough for marks more erudite,
though he was not above the odd abduction;
still, there were certain lines he would not cross,
such that he always singled out the shortest,
the ones least likely to have him for a sire.
His crop, then, would deplete at each excursion
until he found whole tribes of men too tall
and farther did he have to travel searching
until he found all homeward courses lost.
He wandered for so long that all his urges
were overpowered by the urge for home,
even the urge to eat, the urge to sleep,
the urge to grant his legs a moment's rest,
so when he finally reached his cherished peaks
both his knees buckled. He fell headlong to the earth
and burst to a gold dust shower as he crashed,
whence scattering the gift for which his seed
would, in a crueller epoch, be bled white.