I Dance
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In Diamonds
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Does it come
as a surprise? Virgo in decline and Leo rising. My ankles click and knees knock, hips sway. Shoulders back, head up, eyes forward, arms relaxed. feet collect. All this un-natural and polished and practiced. Motion and emotion- the dressing and practice and hours on the bus. Does it come as a surprise? All this glorious physical, body-laughing, and crying. Sensual connecting, And saying What I could never say Any other way. Does it come as a surprise? Like water running up a hill or wind breathing, or a train roaring by and a sudden Stop? All of this shuffling and Moving about. And we have heard Not yet a single note - What? A surprise: We are all Made better Dancing together. Tango Moment
They hold motionless - resolute
he poised as dominant she as perfect tonic They move together then living lyric the moment to a rhythm offered as invitation sharing a long breath, two hearts in one embrace One creative moment - ancient - renewed promised and delivered |
Here is this music and the tropical night
and these rhythms in passing that should be all we need. But I see this moment leaving even as it finally arrives. I’m surprised to be thinking of mortality in your arms. Feeling hearts, hearing breath and all our muscles and intention, and our nerves - connected in this passage, this musical departure and arrival wanting preservation, archival and delicate. You infect me, detect my passion, reflect my attraction, and unscathed, we take the meaningful first step. I lead. I follow. I grace the note with the blessing of knowing you, sister moon, brother sun, laughter at noon, and tears at midnight. Dancing in diamonds, we scatter-shot memories like bird seed to be pecked up and distributed - spread like accolades among all who have been here with us and remain... All the grateful and fortunate moments precious as gems, common as coal, pressed between the very weight of all this love and all our knowing. Tango Encountered
So this is tango,
and I don’t know how I found it or how it gained my attention. It is neither color, nor light; it is not laughter, or religion. There is no reason for it. I am found by tango, and it takes me in, and I scorn it, turn my back and on bruised feet limp to my home at three. Never will I return; time is not meant for waste. Yet, in a few days, I will hum the tunes of the small accordion And the images of friends In their staccato glide about the dark room will intrude, and I will drift back again. So this is tango. The feel of the partner, and the reality of one person dancing in the space of another, the intuition of flight while never releasing the feel of the oak floor. So this is tango. There is the offer and acceptance, the rejection and the resurrection, the mis-steps and yearning and the completion, the figures and all the confusion that is art in motion. So this is tango. The dark streets, damp with autumn, and the traffic lights of the great city winking asleep. This too is tango, and we go, to sleep through the dawns adrift in dreams and rhythms from which we cannot wake. We weep with our soles and hold each other erect: fireflies of the night, held in the deep caress of the full embrace. And all is quiet finally but the whisper of the soft steps, in their delicate cadence, and the irrepressible dance. |