Hats and Howls in Last Tango in Paris

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When We Dead Awaken

Who am I and where do I fit?
I exposed myself wholly and
unreservedly to your gaze
But as once upon a time I was
now time passes me by in a rush

My melancholy, regret, lost youth …
Exposed to your torment … I howl
A pig stealing for beauty’s salvation
The angst of words aren’t enough
So grunts and growls take their place

This betrayal by intended words
Unable to connect to the colossal
Who am I and where is my home?
All muddled, insane, intense, profane
Paramount – yet scandalously singular

This last tango in Paris
Artful and deadly serious
The watcher is a witness
To life’s mad-hatter pageantry
And timeless hatless howl!

Bookends
of
Time

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About jimmyjoon

I am a retired Artist in Resident with the Art of Hope Project where I worked internationally. I attended UCSD and Cal Berkeley. I now balance rocks, watch chickens frolic, and spot barges as they make their way through Tacoma Narrows Passage.
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