1.11.11: Prose in Paragraphs

A workstation has returned
A black cat has once again found my lap
A window is open in November.

I suppose its time to spin tales again.

I am not convinced that winter is a season that lasts a specific amount of time. In fact, I would say that winter transcends temperature. For bears, winter is that time they enter into a cave and hibernate. So, if my imagination tells me anything, it is thus: I’ve been a bear for a few years. Resting, dreaming, and hiding my “bearness” until a spring thaw awoke me.

This is the story I want to tell you.

I want to share the snores, the sighs, and the tossing and turning with you.

I want to tell you the catalyst.

As a storyteller under the great tradition of Joe Campbell, I am compelled to tell you what I’ve learned living on the edge and traveling over from time to time. Its this metaphor that tears me away from bear and into an image of Hunter S. Thompson. Now that was man who lived on the edge! He bore no ill will to the living, just a confusion that they bealived that what their actions could ever be considered “living”. Yet, I have once again found a way to cosign, or for those not anticipating a linguistic jest, tangent myself away from purpose.

Oh purpose! My carrot! My Noose!
You have seduced and sang a siren sound throughout the years.
You’ve prodded and poked my boney sides forcing me to recall all manors of tales.

My best writing has been done when I am in love. But before we prance about in a fit of cheer, let’s make a few things clear… This has not oft been a good thing. The men involved in the tornado of “right proper writing”, were in fact astoundingly lousy folks. Roustabouts, liars, thieves, cheaters, and worst of all ARTISTS. Sweet Shva, you’d think I wasn’t a student of mythology. You would think I would know better.

Now poetry to me is this: all sorts of confusion, tripe, and well-snarked out thought.
Just as the stream you’ve read your boat across
It is a quickly revised form of a love poem, without the pomp.
Or rather the insincere sap…

Or so I pray to Lennon.

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~ by ambur on November 2, 2011.

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