Retain The Mystery

There are many people
willing to tell you what tango is
Listen to them all
Don't believe any of them
Then, when you're full
and you've sifted through it all
weighed the contradictions
tested the theories
decide for yourself
Better yet
stay with the question
Tango
like Love
and God
should remain a mystery.

cold dawn slumbers on, unaware

of the baton preparing to strike . . .

dead, forgotten leaves rustling softly together,

declare the threshold of a new day.

this subtle chime awakens one tree,

then another . . . all listening intently

to a mellifluous saxophone melody.

 

as each bud awakens, another color brightens the sky,

vibrant violet, sapphiric blue, passionate red, brilliant gold.

more and more colors emerge, growing

into an overwhelming explosion of silence.

 

confidently, bass clarinet engages the dance

the sun's warmth invigorating his steps.

branches lightly graze one another

too innocent to recognize impulsive lust until

english horn and saxophone enunciate

the tango.

     saxophone, slicked-hair, smirked-lips, struts forward

      english horn steps back

     regardless, he pursues

      faintly, she encourages

     saxophone whirls elegant horn legs round

      their melting bodies

     draw together

      spread apart

promenading round one another fiercely

eyes melt in fire

lingering hands caressing

every inch of their form

     quick flurs

      slow embraces

     passion play of fervor

      and denial

sensual prurience consumes

their extravagant dance.

 

bassoons gossip, aghast, first inaudibly

then grow, hysterically. all stop dancing

frightened of intense, forbidden desire.

frightened of a simple dance.

 

undaunted, one branch embraces another,

bass clarinet requesting trumpet to dance

just once more. indulge

she tries denying herself

careless jubilation

heat of the noon-sun

encourages her

she accepts.

 

rebellious,

trees resume their dance

now hypnotized,

entranced,

without restraint.

branches mingle,

flute entangles with saxophone.

trees conduct the skies into

frenzied rhythms,

clashing chords,

absolute chaotic dancing

continuously crescendoing

branches become one

twirls, dips,

flutter of skirts,

prancing, cavorting,

dovetailing synchronically,

swiveling hips,

entwining legs,

spinning to and fro,

fierce frenzy,

Caliente! Caliente!

everything blurs together

on the brink of ambrosia, until

suddenly

the sun

starts

setting.

 

the baton slows, restrains the tango.

clarinet sadly sings as the wind dies

hindering trees into carved figures.

the wind diminuendos, into an almost nothingness

english horn ends the dance – takes her bow –

but still slowly, softly mourning

the end of her exuberant dance

so close to frivolity

mirth

yet, the new dawn will bring more wind

closer to

another tango.

When we dance you and I alone

Moving and turning together

To music of the Bandoneon

 

The discovery the passion begins to start

Hands holding hearts

 

Manos tenecia corazones

 

Another song is danced

To a Milonga rhythm

You give me a smiling glance

 

To understand the passion of another land

Hearts holding hands

 

Corazones tenecia manos

 

When again the violin begins to play

I realize your beauty even more

You pull me close as if to say

 

Don't think twice

In this dance

We have found paradise

 

Mi bailarin hermosa

Alfredo Escalero

My Methodist Grandmother Said

My Methodist
grandmother said
dancing
was adultery
set to music

how right she was

in that sweet sway
breast to breast and
leg to leg
sin comes into its own

if you have never
waltzed
you cannot imagine
the sheer voluptuousness
of it
the light touch
palm to palm
wool and silk
mixed below the waist
your partner's warm breath
on your neck
coming quicker
and quicker
the strength of the man
the yielding of the woman
so incorrect
so atavistic
so unspeakably sweet
he moves toward you
you back away
he pursues you
and with the faintest
pressure
you encourage him
and watch the blood
rush to his face

not a word is spoken
no one sees this
although it's done in public
in full sight of everyone

you touch
and retreat
meet
and touch again
in time to the music
saying yes
no yes
no yes
no
yes

you dance
without thinking of your body
in that gentle
rhythmic
careless
almost copulation
one two three
one
two three

the longest
foreplay
in the western
world

--- heard on Writers Almanac

Ludic Rondo in Reply

what Orlando Messmer said

Your own feet dance this movement to the real.

As I track back in steel stiletto heels,

We mind the gap between vintage ballroom music

And the quiet gaze that drives your ludic

Gait. Someday I'll tell you how live play feels.

But I can't chat, not here: my lips are sealed —

Since you can't dance and talk, our state reveals

The abandoned body, how in its silent antic

Your own feet dance this movement to the real.

How much the pixeled avatar conceals!

All lives require flesh. Playsure does appeal

Yet tango still demands a mutual panic

Of trust by touch. Not to be pedantic,

But think: our unmediated vals anneals

Your own feet to dance this movement to the real.

— femfatalatron, nyc

"just tango" from Travis in Buffalo, NY

just tango



Her body moves like silk over me,

around and through me.

There is quiet conversation between

us no one will ever hear, the
sweetest words the world will ever know.


Forbidden lyrics of our lives.



Words of longing, desperation, of lust and love, of
hate and desire...the words burning like
candles into our fingertips, into our shadows,
into our sweat, into our longing.

Our bodies melting into each other...

And we embrace.


She dances as if to live,
and I dance to keep her alive.

Her leg slides naked to the air,

and then rests, waiting.

...and here I hold her, as if
floating, tenderly, closely, precisely careless.


Our embrace. Our dance.
Our moment. Our urgent romance.

Speaking silently in closeness, our embrace of passion, 
of desire, our gaze, our conversation.


No words...


just tango.





Travis Michael Widrick

Charlie Tango Whiskey Zulu

Charlie Tango Whiskey Zulu

 

When the radio operators wanted to be very clear

just what letter they were describing,

They would say Charlie for "C"

Tango for "T"

Each letter had its own code,

its own demonstration of fullness

Clarity, conciseness, diction unfailing

In time of war,

the radio operator had to untrick the ear,

unstumble it from the thicket of sounds

easily confused on the vibrating drum of ears,

as likely to misunderstand as comprehend.

Because many things in this listening world

are ripe for misunderstanding.

Is that not a beautiful expression on the tongue?

 

Thinking of my tango dancing girl in the land of Argentina

December 7, 2007

 

Diane

Hooded in moist steel skies,

Flickers of sunlight, flashes of awe,

Red strands amidst moss green,

Water, fall, foliage,

Where the Columbia confidently

Embraces the Willamette.

 

-Boyle

Rondo of Mysterious Beauty

"for robertrx"

In grandeur the earth beneath you sweeps

While I stand embarrassed. Terror's cheap

But at mine you offer silver-gilt to gently mirror

Our close red room's soft amusement at my error,

A lack of grace that stings the sensitive to weep.

Yet grace with you is not so rare. It seeps

From chest to breast, infuses bone, flows deep

To call your swinging breath's long signal clearer.

In grandeur the earth beneath you sweeps.

You dance hard parlous near to faith, which sleeps

Alone. In New York the price of self-belief runs steep: 

Yes, stammer then to stumble -- that's my horror.

Still, by a whisper, you draw me nearer:

"No fault tango," you smile with mercy free, not cheap.

In grandeur the earth beneath you sweeps.

-- femfatalatron, nyc

TANGO ECHO

Quick and agile - dancing Ducaties,

Beginner’s eager embrace,

Lothario’s practiced moves.

Moments lingering for days-

Ghost dances.

-Boyle

 

Sitting amongst refrains of nostalgia

rooted in past shadows

A walled flower

waiting

 

Eyes meet,

in trespass or invitation?

Her vined legs unwind

from the seat of familiar

Uprooted

 

Facing,

With one arm they embrace,

their other stop-sign hands clasp

marking a joined border

of resistance

 

Transplanted onto this dance floor

soiled with memories,

they negotiate the boundary

of their new, shared space

With each haunting call of the bandoneon,

compelling their circling steps

into now

 

The insinuating rhythm

unites them with one pulse

and yet

the eternal push, pull

hiding, enfolding

Clinging to the music's strains

drawing them together, apart

this tensile arrival, separation

never quite pausing

in past or future

 

Just a timeless heartbeat

of sinewed silence

before the music propels them on

Moving as one,

the dancers seek freedom

through their locked embrace,

escape without departure

Echoing the bandoneon's pull, push

Leaving, returning

Mourning, uniting

 

Into a finale flourish.

Then the tango begins anew.

(dimly remembered past seasons

litter their feet)

yet they dance on

singing for freedom

calling for home

- Vanessa Winn

I don't care about my reputation

what I care about is

shoulders down

heels to the ground

head erect and

core tight.

 

I don't care what eyes may see

what I care about is

relaxation

intuition

arms embracing

in the night.

 

Read what you want to

into the slow sweep

of legs around legs, of heels across floor.

For a vision of what's inside me,

forget your hesitation

forget what hesitation's for.

 

I don't care about the morning after

what I care about is

passions spent

comfort lent

moments in darkness

that feel like light.

 

October 2007

Jennifer Brandlon

Shoes

Shoes When I can no longer dance, May my shoes continue on. May they please someone As they've pleased me And remind her that I've gone.   May they glide with her across the floor In arms so soft and warm, May compliments be sent her way Of their beauty, grace and charm.   May she care for them as I would do If time had just stood still. May she pass them along when she moves on So our dance will be eternal. Polly McBride July 2007 Friday, August 24, 2007 TANGO ECHO Friday, August 3, 2007 INSTRUMENTS OF PLEASURE / FOLLOWERS OF DELIGHT Leads in tango are searchers, like musicians, Who have to find their instruments each evening. Monkish in dark clothes, seeking insight and inspiration, They gather in twilight, on well-worn wood, to punctuated melodies. Followers, How does it feel to have your body become music? -Boyle Thursday, June 21, 2007 TANGO EXPOSED This walk, a pivot, a pause, This meditative movement, This indulgent endeavor; Why do we surrender to it? To bring forth the subterranean, To reveal to the near-distant dawn, To the always watching community Who know us better than our confessor? -Boyle Monday, June 11, 2007 Carlos CARLOS   A man dancing Tango - do you want me to tell his age? Look at his slow, soft, tender movements drawing strong, loving, burning pictures of lived passion on the floor. Bringing memories to life: -         tenthousand hours of experienced love -         valleys darkened by the bitter flood of disappointment -         a field of roses smelling the hope of fulfillment. Leading the female his sensual hands are taking care of to its longing, proud, supple singing, becoming one movement of desire. This man is as young as love.     Maria Tuesday, June 5, 2007 Ten Tango Haiku Ten Tango Haiku By Kyoko Richter (translated by Fred Richter) Dancing the tango on a spring day, Blond hair Flowing over her shoulders. Off with sneakers, On with dance shoes – Lilacs in bloom around the house. A chill on the lilacs – A small first step On a night of tango. Slender shoulders on a Hazy spring night – Tango music. The spring moon, faint -- Hand in hand Toward the moving circle of dancers. Last night's tango music Still in my ears: Picking flowering salad greens. Columbine buds Pointing toward the heavens – Young girls dancing. Deep spring -- Two women Dance the tango! Outside, Tango music behind, The scent of roses. Almost summer – A small room, The quick beat of the milonga. Thursday, May 31, 2007 Little black dress You made a big impression With a dress of that size. Many it would fit But few could wear it. You met each gaze with confidence, The men drawn, the women wary. This provocative sheath, Captivated those following its dance; Your lingering image, My troubling mind. -Boyle Thursday, May 24, 2007 Broken hearts mend with Tango Broken hearts mend with Tango   Come to me Hold my hand in yours Hold me close Let my heart feel your heart beat   Hold me close and pause a moment Let's get centered Let's feel the moment   Hold me close Let me touch your heart Your heart, broken maybe, tender, and vulnerable My heart, too, broken, tender, and vulnerable Let's keep them open   Hold me close Pause a moment, let's get centered Let's get in the moment Hear the music? Let's connect Let's walk Let's Tango   Talk to me not with your words But With your chest and your heart   I'll respond Not with words But With my Soft or a quick snap of a Boleo   You'll know I heard you You'll know I felt you You'll know I'm with you   I'll respond With my Crusada You'll know I heard you You'll know I felt you You'll know I'm with you   With   Our sweaty palms    Drenched faces   And throbbing heartbeat I know you are there I know you hear me I know you feel me   I know our hearts are connected  I know we are dancing as one And I know it is only you and I Floating and lost in the moment   You know And I know   At least for this dance, at this moment, it is only you and I Alone, here and now     I'm hooked   This moment is the answer to the  Broken heart I don't want it to stop   Let's dance one more time Come to me Hold me close Let our hearts melt together Let our hearts mend At least for one more dance    Monday, May 21, 2007 Questions of a heart just opening Are you ready To touch your vulnerable heart? To listen to its hoping beat? To let it stay alive In a time showing hopelessness? Do you caress its feelings Even when you can't allow YourSelf to express them? Are you strong enough Not again to reject Its pounding desire? Are you courageous enough To keep its precious door open In spite of the hurt That once extinguished All light in your eyes? Are you grown up now To allow it to stay open? Because once it has been touched It wants to look At all delicate surrounding beauty With its tender eyes. Do you believe in your own truth Not condemning the ones Who have to protect themSelves For survival? Can you stay the loneliness That sometimes follows honesty? Can you be with the Joy Your body remembers Once having been In desiring, radiant, explosive Connection? Do you trust life That it will happen again? Can you take your heart Into your own tender hands Comforting it For not feeling fulfilled Its longing loving? Are you ready To embrace the world Without having human hands To hold you? Are you trustful To share your thoughts and feelings By just offering them? Can you enjoy all the moments Being with yourSelf and themSelves? Can you offer your presents Being content That they are taken Just with thankfulness? Can you bear that Your heart's endless tender universe IS TOUCHED BY EVERYONETHING? You have arrived YOU ARE READY FOR (LOVE) TANGO . . . Maria Stoecker, May 2007 Friday, March 9, 2007 CONDOR Bald pink, ruffled collar In tango black- Elegantly ugly. Above the seal-cliffs of Big Sur, Non-violent, Non-vegetarian, Buddhists of flight. With that first step A long power glide, A tight smooth giro, Interpreters of air pressure- Music with a patient beat. -MikeBoyle #end Tuesday, March 6, 2007 tango tribe Tango Tribes Close embrace- That dancing beast of two backs Where a serene smile Goes unobserved by her partner. This intimacy withers beyond the frame. It is enough to acknowledge dance's hierarchy Of competitive/cooperative Jets and Sharks, Not to lament it, Even Dante and Beatrice Explored a stratified paradise. Tuesday, January 23, 2007 Last Tango After our sluggish dance on An out of state floor, I glide now among The remnants Of joy and jealousy -No one to offer My stolen moves, No one to return to. These moth-wings try to Lead me to a fading flame But my partner seeks another. In your absence I've lost weight And gained sleep- A foretaste of My waiting death. --Mike Boyle, Nov 2006 Joined Bodies 1.) my blood feels like honeysweetly oozing through my bodyevery moment is savoredevery breath is a centuryevery heartbeat a nectary yeara year filled with moonlightbathing our joined bodiessunlight filters throughdusty morning airand ambrosial dreamsa year of Valentines daysand every instinctive stepevery unconstrained movementfreezes my lacy nervesand strikes my fragile skin aflamein an incomparable and new waytime tested, yet freshevery time 2.) my steps are silk ribbonswoven togethergently and passionately placedupon a rough wood floorbraided and twistedthrough the thoughts of my leaderwe dance like there is no timelike there never was --Michelle Hager, Bozeman, MT, 2006 The one who had made everyone else disappear when i woke up this morning, i found no one in the house. i looked outside, but there was no one in the street. boarding a bus with no driver, i made my way to an empty airport and onto a plane, where i waited, alone. exhausted, i drifted back into a world of dreams and remembered the one i had danced with ....the one who who had made everyone else disappear. --anonymous A Small Description It's a step when you walk with your arms together… It's a hobby when you start walking with people you do and don't know… It's a dance when you start walking with the music…. It's an art when you get the meaning of it… It's a way of life once you understand it… It's a tango. --Joel Smith, Age 14, July 2002, Polly's Grandson, after dancing tango about six months. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom)