River Stones


"No mistakes in the tango.

If you get tangled

when you tango,

tango on."

It begins simply:

Two steps and then another,

easy as a waltz,

A hitch and then a turn,

Precise as if the shoe

had clenched a pin.

The art of the tango is the diver's art:

Courage to cast off,


Control in the falló

Grace in gravity's command.

Tango in the dark,

dim lights on your shoulders,

And the lights weave curves like

mountain water:

elegant as hawks in thermals,

random as the hummingbird.

But chaos is its own order,

when you dance the tango.

Each move flows from the last

like the toss and fall of driftwood

in a stream.

Each move is new, inevitable no more than

leaf's fall or the swirl of dust in wind,

and yet

the beauty of the tango is

he leads precisely to new places;

she follows strung on instinct;

they part and meet.

Two bodies battle, in the tango,

halt and shift like roosters,

curl and clench and twist

like fighting fish,

wrestle to quick resolutions

swift as sudden failures

of resistance.

The tango is a martial art.

The tango is best on glass.

Let balance be all;

Let the leverage of the adversary,

the strike of conflict,

twist of quick deflection,

save you;

Let the impulse of the moment

cry the only move

that you could make

correctly;.Trust her lift to save your fall;

Take her fall and flex it into flight;

Glide each other's tension into freedom.

Tango only with your lovers,

For only lovers can endure the tango.

Without love it is scattering of birds.

With love it is the hunt and willing prey.

But if you have no lover,

Tango with a stranger,

And the tango will instruct you:

Man or woman, in your arms,

stranger, friend, or lover,

soon will know you

to your deepest heart.

Poetry Writing Dancing Badger