(A preface:
A dear friend - a wandering soul like me who pontificates upon life's mysteries in both the written and spoken word - has a series of writing that he has compiled under the title of "Notes from the Field." His insightful meanderings and matter of fact wisdom is inspirational food for fodder. Hence, today, while soaking in a hot tub and feeling the need to purge myself of my hang-ups and can't-let-go's, I reached for the trusty ol' pen and paper. This time, it was a store bought journal within which I have been jotting down copious notes about the slow food movement. Bored with my own seemingly purge-like, personal narrative, I drew further inspiration from the words of local farmers whom I have spent the past few weeks interviewing. Asa a result, the prose below, like a flowing song, poured forth from my luxuriating mouth and softening muscles.)
Notes from the Tub
Can't let go
sex on fire
burning, burning
burning in illusion.
Bodies tumble
in sustained ease and grace
tossing, turning
turning in e-motion.
Singular thoughts
solitary existence
when oh when
shall this facade end?
(Context:
Sex - the word itself can imply many connotations. Such as: gender, masculine and feminine, the act of sexual intercourse, relationship, be-ing, creative fire, nature, life. How you perceive it in the above says a lot about your own personal relationship with the topic. How and why I chose to use the word is irrelevant. Nonetheless, the sex remains - it is always present...
