In this issue, The staff of the Gift Electroniqué explore the deep blue mysteries of what covers 70% of our planet. No, not bad poetry. We mean the ocean blue. So, put on the snorkel of soliloquy and dip a toe into our lukewarm offerings.


I was asleep and dreaming

About giant squids eating my eyeballs,

Chomping on my belly

And it wasn't so very bad.

Still, I asked if they would stop.




Bob and me was workin'

Down at about 20,000 leagues

When we sees this hideous monster

And Bob wets hisself.


The cold black sea

Deep as the grave

Black as the spade

Can make you disappear without a trace

Just like it does

The used oil from my Toyota

That I dump into the bay.




Two atmospheres under the sea

and my joints are filling with air.


I'm thinking about writing a book

about a whale, says Herman.

Would you read a book like that? He asks.

Depends on the whale, I guess, I says.




How are the men? My father writes to me

On my ship. How are the men?

The men are fine, I write back. They are

planning a mutiny against me

Which sounds like fun,

But they won't let me help.


The ocean is a wondrous world

filled with wonder and mystery

and tuna fish. Oh! for some mayonnaise!



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