Tango de la Materia, A Closing Letter

Thank you all for listening. The journey has been an impassioned conversation with time, licking at her heels, as she’s always leaving, waiting at the door… begging like a dog for one more line, one more wisdom of a lullaby. As it turns out, despite our slightest reaches into the future, we must bear patience in her unveiling, lest we come too soon to slumber, or to disregard, and miss the moment we’ve been waiting for.

Thank you kindly, your ears have been my stand still, and your intellect my gallop. As we make our preparations for the close of light, the ceremony in alleviation of the steady march of time, remember me the poet… always hiding in between the lines, though now I take a bow… my dearest… amor, amor!

Hats off to you, my lady all and all… you’ve been a muse, and I love you more…

You may always reach to me… even on a river in the middle of the night.

Corazonamiento,

Jason

Tango de la Materia, No. 100, Epitome No. 9 (The 10th Symphony)

A mind to eye in passive fast
Watch the lines of piers
In green sepia
Bobbing in the late bayou
Like a patience to deliver
I utter only into avoid despair
Expression other an abyss
Wise Bohemian youth
As the hollow theory of homes
Had not yet come to fore
Atone their stands to distant
Shores’ ambrosia blind to nurturing
A pool of wax
Dreaming from red lips
Hostage to the swelling newly born
Time is always free
And all that is beauty is so afraid of the light
A passing phrase that captures moments shivering
Stripping shrouded deeper still
Reiterations of our vessels
A foreign land to stand home for
Farther than a place could dream imagine
Diluted in the façade of disappearance
Nuanced intersection
Belief meeting eye to eye
Without the need of conversation
Break the distance
Words to only farther take us struggling back
Equal me
A beautiful world
I would marry the first person
Whom met and did not
Expect a word of explanation
Save humanity
Listening
I stood on the banks of finitude
And watched my life pour in

The season of light comes to an end
And the tango is concluded
Ceremonial soul de la materia
Long dreading the heart no longer guide thee
A headless thoroughbred
The thoughts that roll on by
I have been the old man and the child
The observation and the leap
And it was the laughter of an empty youth
Had met so fresh
Would have been the envy of the company
Had not we danced so stiff
So dark and rationally
A tango on the city of dreams’
Tributaries of the angels’ interpretations
As our guests having lacked sufficient depth
To utter that
Which would have killed
A passion set me free
Imagine all the people would have come
To watch us waltz about Wien
On the many rivers of Venexia
Now love no more
Imagination disappears
Upon the flamingos of wisdom
Viola voilà!
Flamenco à la Trieste
()

Tango de la Materia, No. 99

Dear dear logic
Impossible to trust
Yet so convincing
Prefer the soul
My soul is settled
She loves me
Her lips are cold
You left me to sell your soul
I love you
I’m weeping all alone

Tango de la Materia, No. 98

Dear dear emotion
Impossible to trust
Yet so convincing
Prefer the mind
My mind is honest
She loves me not
Her lips are vagrant
She loves me
The structure was pure
It had me weep

Tango de la Materia, No. 97

Dear dear logic

Impossible to trust

Yet so convincing

Prefer the heart

My heart is a fool

She loves me

Her lips are a snitch

She loves me not

The chaos was pure

It had me weep

Tango de la Materia, No. 96

Dear dear emotion

Impossible to trust

Yet so convincing

Prefer the body

My body is a savage

She loves me not

Her lips are sultry

She loves me

The structure was pure

It had me weep

Tango de la Materia, No. 95

Dear dear logic
Impossible to trust
Yet so convincing
Prefer the soul
My soul is branded
She loves me
Her lips are unraveling
She loves me not
The chaos was pure
It had me weep

Tango de la Materia, No. 94

Dear dear emotion
Impossible to trust
Yet so convincing
Prefer the mind
My mind is a gap
She loves me not
Her lips are a stitch
She loves me
The structure was pure
It had me weep

Tango de la Materia, No. 93

Dear dear logic
Impossible to trust
Yet so convincing
Prefer the heart
My heart is light
She loves me
Her lips are chafed
She loves me not
The chaos was pure
It had me weep

Tango de la Materia, No. 92

Dear dear emotion
Impossible to trust
Yet so convincing
Prefer the body
My body is stiff
She loves me not
Her lips are moist
She loves me
The structure was pure
It had me weep

Tango de la Materia, No. 91

Dear dear logic
Impossible to trust
Yet so convincing
Prefer the soul
My soul is oblique
She loves me
Her lips are opaque
She loves me not
The chaos was pure
It had me weep

Tango de la Materia, No. 89, Epitome No. 8

The ephemeral disgust of an Eastern accent

Denotes a certain preparation for death

That I find irresistibly attractive

As we come to winter

We will come to find solitude

The poetry turned dry in my mouth

Waiting for the bleary eyed sunset to pass

This lovely October falling

Toward her quite so open ear

And silent tongue

As vast as the ocean

Where my words do sail upon

Echoing ineffable

Inaudible she reaches to respond

A softening breath

As only to softly pass on goodbye

Close the sea we weave interstices

Having wept so god forsaken long

There is no more sadness to softly mumble

The shrilling screech of the violin to halt

As the child has passed a lullaby

Out a muffled weary song

And passed away

A dreamer in the veil of life we carry on

Despondent

A ruse to chaos to justify the order

Logic numbing steady materia

Chameleons to rationality

Need not carry discourse

In order to justly silent agree

Respect and carry on encompassing

The mathematization of emotion

(A static/asexual) mask to (feign/deny)

To don this hallows’ eve

All becoming

Honing in on thy prey

The violin is the child

Hanging in the gallery

The connoisseur (a-sexual) predator

Longing for her daughter

Having drowned so innocently

In the ceremony of our reason

A baby girl

Protector of humanity

Emotion found its logic

In the final throes of a fuck

And denied it

Tossed it to the (faint/feigned) howls of lust

And I felt the flutter of the pigeons

Taking flight behind my stride

Like angels I need not turn back to sea

As I can sense the wild eyes

Already staring out of thine

And I must walk my steady course

Until my passions take to flight

Having run reiterations dry

Despite the choice we make

We are committing to a life quite naked

THERE IS NO REASON NOT TO FOLLOW THY HEART

There is no logic in denying emotion

We bare our love on (a-cross) abreast

Wishing good night our children slumbering

Buried quite

Within our souls

Though having run our dire course

Is she waiting for me still?

Or am I lest a mere

Still wishing for her ghostly?

Having offered sacrifice of love

The child of thy heart

A fool to his stubborn pride

And forcing the structure closed

Is there anyone listening at all at all?

I’m crying out for help!

I’m dying all the time

My child my spirit

Listen well to my rhetorical soul

As ’tis the shell thee will grow into

Come to humbly know

Thy solitude has ripened

Have been plucked up on the winds

And will sail on off to sea

Upon where thy’ll be thrown

Before the gods dancing high in crest

The sparkling of the water

Perched to swim to coast

Thy swells collapsing thee

All I want the salty air

To whisper to my spirit

That all is right in the world

That my being will be a bountiful echo

In the vast reiterations of time

And the discord of my intellect

Will be sewn tight

Sweetly done

Weaving blind a tapestry of abyss

In the pigments of a dusty shelf

The pathological disturbances

And when the many rivers of thy tongue run dry

Remember that an angel sent thee here to suffer thirst

In order rapture might be thine to scavenge

And for the sake of thy posterity

My angel of a child

I’ve conceived of thee in discord

And before I can quite grab my hold

I can sense the vultures

Feel the tug of wild shores

This life is a desert

A boundless ocean floor

And the ticks of time will stretch unfathomable
As the measure runs indiscreet

Ah the grandiose of love

Is thy child prostrate at thy feet

The mane on a moonless night

And every fasting moment

Masters an eclipse of spirit

Thy child dearest passing on

Tango de la Materia, No. 88

Leaves scattered in the

Rustling of winds

What to do with this

Life

Sometimes the greatest work of all

Is to loosen the work

A masterpiece concealed

In those beauties carry hearts

Through mad avenues of minds

Sweet nothings to the ears

Of generations

Reigns reins collectively tied

As life goes on déjà vu

Becomes

In everyday occurrence

Hollowed out seen through

All the same

Once conceptualized

Déjà vu au courant

In viola convex recurrence

Now existens in silent

Sounds’ absent concave troughs

Le discours du violon

Americano tragedy

Carried like another day

Na housle je ty

Valerian of the violin

Tango de la Materia, No. 87

An evening in the park

We stood

Conversing as children

In the still pond of a mother’s vision

A stolid echo of father’s sunken eyes

Lifted only in the breeze

Like a skirt

Or like a memory

Of ageless mystique

Buried in the secret spaces of longing

The mourning heckling the machine

Out of the caving body

Day in day out

Weaving a tapestry of abyss

In the pigments

Brushing the walls of an attic of mind

An addict of dissonance

Begging material discord

In the ravaged ashes of a trace

Of timeless stare

Drowning in the neon mist

Of a late august braeburn

The fall is coming on

Advances crystal still

Like a lake of ice already

Resonance too thin

The ceremony is submerging

In futures’ shivering current

So blithely innocent

Though still sparkling

Trim love and howl

Glassy feathers’

Musty hymn inaudible

Sounds a kiss

A gaping for more

Tango de la Materia, No. 86

Spending moments

Spanning futures

Relishing pasts

The ruins of a home

I will always love you

Resting well

Where’s the voodoo pin

To tingling spine

A hollow carved out

A home

Nothing left

Tango de la Materia, No. 85

Perfect humidity

To fill the silence

With absent sounds

In order the dust

Does never rustle (the wind/on)

Rather the smoke of hearty fires

Bubbles

Of an hallucinogenic children’s dream

Summers of love

Consuming themselves in familial trust

And the sun

Having shone through darkest clouds

If a moment breathes

Our distance

Astray from former selves

Tango de la Materia, No. 84

When sitting in the Athens heat

Colloquial requiem

A material disposition

Closes in the curls

Of humid stormy night once ’fore

Having seen the sparrows

In their dusty holes

Knowing all it is

To symbolize the irrational trust

In (turgid/torpid) metaphors

And begging all it is

To bathe in heat of dusk

Of dusty dusk

Pinning to the piñatas gaunt

The ineffable distrust

The tingling flakes of red

In mind quite contrary

To its own quite reasonable affront

We shake our fallen discretions

Once slight rises

O’ercoming ties to the earth we shun

Our selves productions mere

Of our afeard unbecomings

Once nestled in a truss

Do come pouring out

On out of lust

Tango de la Materia, No. 83

What this strange percussion

Peerless instance

Evocation of a credence

Ensemble of a discourse

Self upon self upon self

Fucking

Tyranny

We want the pleasure

Not the zen

The orgasm of each moment

Grip so beautiful the teat

Of wanton rationale

Enclosure of an overzealous wealth

A boredom

A shell to peer into the ocean

Flashing wings of guiding kelp

And the canyon is a guiding motion

Though wherein we are neither felt

Nor impotent

Tango de la Materia, No. 82

Strange to bar

The enclave of sense

Caving in absolute disclosure

A clarity well mixed

Revealing the sensitive ambrosia

A cynic’s deceit of irony

Bearing souls

Their ideological weight

They mustn’t shiver beneath the shudders

A battery well exhuming our composure

A veil shy to compose our fate

Rotary evolving the trapeze stoic

An element we imagine

Lonesome

Only to our (stale-mate)

In Catolic (heat/closure)

To find that we need not be saved

Only (martyred/bartered)

That sordidly

Tango de la Materia, No. 81

Brevity hath invoked a smile

Merely longing in procedure

We need not always adhere her rafters

As the (repression/digression)

Of sexualité caters

Some (divine/creative) (impulse/impetus)

Dire need of abandonment

A positive cynicism

Doth reinstate its (assimilations/assassinations)

Ushered through (menageries/monogamies)

Of (existence/indifference)

As trust in direct statements

Doth lead thee widely

’Long the hemlock trail

Into low sung mists

Approaching the enemy (hollow/polemic)

And just as prone to disappear

Tango de la Materia, No. 80

Climbing the

Wallflower high clinging

Truths are away washing away

Dear shame of pliant nurture

Spring rain a falling on

Wildflower orchards’

Invasive battery recalls

The yokel botanist

Hath mastered past recedes

Of princess tree

The sudden dashed

To gusting trim

Out each and every

Direction gentile

Growing on a mind

Gnawing hath made nerves

Of iron seal

A gentle trimming to the vine

Having wrought an empress high

And slight out from cane of foreign fields

Tango de la Materia, No. 79

Dear dear emotion
Impossible to trust
Yet so convincing
Prefer the mind
My mind is firm
She loves me not
Her lips are soft
She loves me
The structure was pure
It had me weep

Tango de la Materia, No. 78, Epitome No. 7

Hanging there

A passion lame

She lost her memory in my sadness

My dry rote of passing speech

She’s fading ever faster

As I ring and ring and ring

My focus rippling soft

Having settled in the pond

And how to choose to love

When love no more responds?

I kept her in my dreams

Where her words were blessed in my memories

Her scathing admirations

As a soul never did tango with your complexities

Except for me

And (I’m/she’s) losing our minds

At the holy feast

Our brothers (deposing/imposing) upon our sanities

Our last supper in mad confessional

Raping psychologie

And calling out the devil

In a wickered man

A scapegoat for the moral burden

Of the holy family

As thus enticed of a Slavic witchery

I’m dancing with my devils

Tempting fate

The expression of a suppressed history

Like an asexual orgasm of ontology

Cronache nere

Silent falls the muse

The siren of our lust

The furies of our imaginings’ (anomalies/

Black swans in the grassy fair)

A beauty fatal for its charitable becoming

Always there

Merely a white collar thievery

Whom got away with love

Late this one long night

So as not to die a wretched miser

By charitable display

The cage of an ambitious soul

Whom inhales of dreams from the flames young rising

So as to flicker his deceit

And ghost the scarcity of some dry kindling

Some bitter concept biding its time

I’ve conceptualized to the marrow of my mind

To gather the slim (branches/thoughts) worthy of love

Though it seems then now hath been evaded

Straight on through the hollow core

As has been’s sung

Thee have felt love swell

And heard it wane

Watched it die

And can feel it resurrected

God is love shall give

The angels charge over you

Dancing with the fallen

All of thy love as perennial as the grass

You are the rose of Sharon

And the lily of the valley

The hawthorn blossoms (in doubt/indebted)

So as a ripe bud of belief

Carries its weight onto the wind

She branded me the devil

Always there

The bloody spot that just wouldn’t come out

Like when I was a young boy

Blithely drawing blood with thorny branches

Corazón espinado

And I swallowed the sacrament

On an empty gut instinct

The streets will be my lover tonight

Wherein this blood is in the water

And the sharks are circling

A moonset red crescent

Commitment to the solitude

You’ve killed me

Though not so quick as I could cut myself

I’ve seen her cutting feign

And I’ve cheated death this time

I’ve duped the fates her pain

Perhaps we must come to trust our bloody hands

Before our white horse gods

If only so as to sing their names

Out over the goddess’ birth’ Platonic union

I could not conceive a child in her desperation

No

Despite life a desperate roulette

I washed my furies through my razor tears

Pouring upon thine incised veins

Many rivers running my bloody bloody hands

Out damn guilt I curse thee out

For only with her devilry you stand

And I’ve taken now the leading step

So as to dance the devil (shut her/shudder) out of me

Loveless in the fair

(Wilting/lilting) thus so masterfully

Come come

Comme pour laisser

Tango de la Materia, No. 77

Unholy visit

Abstain thy suicide

Else take me with thee

Can feel thy stabbing

Less regard

Paralysis

Hath woken sunken eyes

Witness disembowelment

At autopsy quite alive

Psyche stranger behind

Sinister muffles

Good mourning

Good morning

Basking in her silence

Deepest radiant joy

Sublime enough to close thine eyes

Indifferent

Awaken from thy slumber

Thy (dreaming atrophy/

Machination of mind)

Laughing as we come

Out preconception

Born to peaceful dye

Having died a thousand times

Toward chainlink vortex

Myriad thy mire

Prey to predator thy was

As at noose thy sleeping fire

Tango de la Materia, No. 76

How is it to rid thyself

Of attendement?

As time races by the fluorescent noon

Imagine we are just roses in the umbrage

Just curettes scraping the fog

From out our hallucinogens of minds

Imagine we are razor white partners

Embittered reiterations

Things are not what they are

We are not what we are

As we are mordents

Long in exchange

Of symphytic (fastings/

Hastings) made ply

We the violence rearrange

We the peace may descry

Tango de la Materia, No. 75

To go intruder

Must go outer through outer

Resting in symmetry

Then outer through inner

Continuously

Then inner through outer

Entangled dichotomies

Then inner through inner

And (safe/homeostasis)

To go (out/fugitive)

Must go inner through inner

Unraveling dichotomies

Then inner through outer

Continuously

Then outer through inner

Blessing in symmetry

Then outer through outer

And free radicals

(Impossible of rationalization/

Without definitives)

A French arrogance

Tango de la Materia, No. 74

Spending moments

Spanning futures

Relishing pasts

The ruins of a home

I will always love you

Resting well

Where’s the voodoo pin

To tingling spine

A hollow carved out

A home

Nothing left

Tango de la Materia, No. 73

Dancing in (robota/

Waving alpine slopes)

All (abstraction/conceptualization)

Is a derivation of experience

How to touch so lightly

Might not even be felt

A feather in the dust

Because life is beautiful

And some might not forget

Despite what part doth play

Rogue in (vous/doux)

And filleted and such

Tango de la Materia, No. 72

D’imaginer des plumes sur le veut

À fantasmer la femme

Le Buddhist awakening

At emptily epitome disclosed

Commentated (visualization/rendition)

Revolution feminine

The stake of new life

In the afterwake of last great wars

Dum spiro spero

(Perspective/perspiration)

Phenomena of globalization

A mere happening in communicative competition

Glimpses (in-sanity)

Egotistical labor contradictions

The (chauvinist/conquistadores)

Communal (in-gestation)

Maitre,

We must work with diligence

In the revision of the avant garde

À la louange de l’âme feminine

Constant progression to take care (in-sane)

In pursuit philosophy an abstract art

Doth forget the television screen

The same as representation

In o’erlook the anti-objected

Strain in eyes just delicate ah

Bien à vous

Tango de la Materia, No. 71

La revolución echoes

In lines of consumerist trend

Conservative halo premature hushes

This antagonism to culture

All semblance of posterity

Is a veil of honored fear

Thy sincerity formulaic

In the rantings of reality

As much the concept is real

Quite bereft of cynical dissertation

There is no space to breathe

Only conversation

Dragging time like tomorrow

Prejuding

The legality truncates the question

Prefer a silence absent prejudice

Avoidant of ideological discipline

Cults of vicarious suicide

Ever sit back on the ride

And listen to the street?

Dichotomous opening

The private revolution

Streams of blood and mucus running on

The privatization of happiness

A symphony of computer screens

Marching Escher’s stairs

Erratically scattered ashes

Shown thy chaos

Born in control

Ah

Great pretender doth not pretend

Is make believe that’s all

Tango de la Materia, No. 70

Waking to flares of imitation

Voices in heads must (hear/be heard)

Resounding divine in world

A symphony of free depth music

Waltzing Escher’s stairs

In (maze/maize) of gravitation

Time nowhere to be found

Must forge out raw alloy

The (divine/vine) grows out utterance

Those arrogant (scowls/laughs) of poesy

A sweet dark remembrance

Of other time

(Airports/endless lines waiting to fly)

Par for the course

Head as semblance of heart

Heart as semblance of head

A science in veil of cowardice

For evil to (him/her) whom evil thinks

Black ice impeccably unforeseen

Murphy’s law incarnate

A profound flattery

This (tension of assimilation/

World beneath the skin

Mixing recklessly into bloodstream

And incised gushing in to world)

This unbearable entropy

(Perfect/imperfect) abysses’

Lashes fluttering

What tease

Tango de la Materia, No. 69

And in the (feeling/seeming) morning

Shuffling winds doth shift a ringing

Winter rain a warm shower

In the distance puffs of dust

Dry (clothes/moths) in the afternoon

A wanton lust hath swallowed fumes

Les panaches’ instance

Il touché tellement comme l’air

It touches so much like the skin

’S heartbeat whispering

Sleep sommeil it comes and goes

Like in pairs or pears

Tango de la Materia, No. 68

Forge the maelstrom thy desire

A shy but beckoning

To move through crowds invisible

As if to exist were not to steal

The philosophical reality is as such

Dialectic overgrown

And out of the cave is silence

Nothing but a breeze

The elder prejuding

Funeral parlor steps

Like bundled blades of grass

In the mourning wind

Love never dies

Though I look mark in your eyes

And see a slim nothing

We just came to watch the people

We were tired of the grass

We were tired of the work

We liked the golden dawn

Cinco de Mayo

To celebrate the hedgerow queen

In blissful Máj

The Pentecostal Mayday

I prefer a silence that is without prejudice

A simple mind soufflé

And buenas we sleep

And so buenas noches

Tango de la Materia, No. 67

Dear dear logic

Impossible to trust

Yet so convincing

Prefer the heart

My heart is green

She loves me

Her lips are red

She loves me not

The chaos was pure

It had me weep