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Bad Syntax

Bad Syntax

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Published by E Gerald Oberman
Uploaded from Google Docs
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Published by: E Gerald Oberman on Jan 31, 2012
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial


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I wrote a letter to a girl once. One whom I might have loved, and who might have loved me.

Across two worlds. Always so, these riddles. Puzzles, Mazes of corn, cobblestone, old moss. Traps, tongue twisters, mind benders, memories and milestones. Tricks, Tricksters, lying jester eyes, hearts as big buildings covered in steel, whispering of a love they cannot afford to give. How can two pair of eyes become so entangled? (Spiralling Fibonacci bands of magnetism) How can two people be so hard to pry apart? (Spiralling Fibonacci bands of magnetism) How does one rest in the talons of passion? (Love) Across two worlds. Continents. Might as well be a checkers length, a chess game, your move. Your hand to dance, to tango, the shimmer of disco balls, spinning turquoise eyes, Clapton white nostrils. I’m tired of dancing around the subject. WAKE UP!! the world is waiting for you to inhale it. for You to step up, wake up, JUMP AROUND! There are trees out there waiting to be climbed and here you are characterizing them in fables! Where kids climb trees! When does the writing stop and the living begin? Where do my stories go after I’ve told them? Ponderous, contemplative: these are the ways of boring men. SKIP SOMEWHERE! because, really, when is the last time you skipped anywhere? or sang out loud in public? in the shower? in bed, in the strong arms of your lover wrapped tightly around your waist? in the heave of the moment have you screamed yet?

have you wailed? has the ecstasy of fleshy penetration caused you to tremble, in awe of your capacity for pleasure? has the world wooed you yet? have you fallen in love with passing sidewalk flowers? have you zoned to the hum of bees, the churn of ocean foam at midnight, the heartbeat of a warm chest? have you whispered yet, the longings of your soul into awaiting ears, under candle light, in the warmth of a stranger’s bed? have you forgotten your own limbs, trapped in a sleepers knot of legs and arms, lips, thighs and have you woken in a broken sweat for fear of death or loss? When do we stop telling stories and start living them? (now, now, always now) There is no ending here, no setgamematch, no final score. THIS IS IT! All of It, for what you may be alive to see is not what there shall be to see again--It is not bad syntax, that struggle is your brain working.

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