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

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.

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.