Sex is an excellent syllable, which <br />detonates meaning and is fillable <br />with much connotation. Of course <br />it conjures a deed done and conjugal <br />entanglements of bodies, when love <br />or lust gets down to earthy business, <br />when desire fires itself up and down <br />and on (and out of) the town. Sex <br />is also an implied question on a form <br /> <br />that may be answered M or F, <br />even if you’re in a mood to <br />answer Yes or No or Maybe So, <br />or 'I'll get back to you later' or <br />'What about it? 'Sex is not solely <br />one thing or two but more <br />than a few and human, too. <br /> <br />Sex at times is a semiotic nexus <br />(how sexual that sounds!) suggesting <br />bawdy, haughty, naughty, hottie <br />bodies, which touch and much more <br />in sex’s neck of the woulds and coulds, <br />the musts and lusts. Sometimes sex is <br />subtly intimated simply by the two-letter <br />syllable, it, as in getting it on, doing it, <br />making it, and even, alas, faking it. Oh <br /> <br />yes, there’s that other effing eff-word, <br />the one that rhymes with truck <br />and gets so often stuck in awkward syntactical <br />positions. Sex is life in frenzied love <br />with itself, all lips and hips, rounds <br />and flats, sultry strategies and tender <br />tactics, loads of lust and convoys <br />of cupidity, sensual consensual <br />congress. Sex can cause stupidity— <br />would you agree? —and vice versa. <br />Sex is a state of union, an exhilarating <br />expiration, a getting up, a getting with <br />it, a going down, a fear and fondness <br />of flying, a finding out and a knowing <br />about. It has been known to be <br />a bit of a chore, an occasional bore. <br />It’s mysterious and base, crude and holy, <br />much cause for consternation, <br />controversy, rules, and fools. Sex <br />is something else again. And again.<br /><br />Hans Ostrom<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sex-10/
