Al Young title





Bandoneón Player © Oscar Casas

“When the band strikes up a tango, people with Parkinson’s disease may want to head for the dance floor.”
— Eric Nagourney,
The New York Times, February 12, 2008

The tango and the blues shared more than funk
and disrespect; their pulse and heart moan softly
in the here-and-now, and swell with touch and
what touch needs to mean. Whether hand in hand
or slyly mouth to mouth, we move, we live again.
The steps we share still every deathly fear.

Our limbs know what it means that you can lean
into my outer step, the blood-orange of our dancing
duds a sultry tip-off. Darling, when Africa calls,
delayed responses sway. And yet the habanera
and candombe egg us on, egg static forces forward.

Big forms of blues feel endless sometimes, vast,
swirling deep up from the bloodstream, blending
sunrise with the closest Moon to Earth in years.
And when you move your face to mine, dark sky
our background, I know nothing will dissolve
that is not form. Long live local movements.

— Al Young
© 2010 by Al Young


Leave a Reply