I keep a lookout for beach glass
I’m afraid – of its forever
Sand, gravely exfoliating sound
A downward strangeness
Dug out, never seen before
Support the thoughtful art
Vincent starry madman ecstasy
For the homeless harmonicas sweet tasting ink
Authenticate the ironing passion of expression
Foreign is all that entangles my attention.
Il Postino must be watched for numerous reasons.
Bacalov composed this masterpiece with lots of love and a little rue.
Pietrodarchi and his bandoneon surely are not frugal.
My oh my what a barefoot genius.
Tame your ears goodnight lullabies.
Peace to all.
Your Oblivion was my fluency
My tango tongued wrecking experience
For a twelve tone dreamer like me
Smokey cabaret concertina
For my hexagonal gritty desire
My unrestrained vulgar Libertango
May I call you Astor?
Your polyphonic eloquence is the pulse of this very phrase
Breathing poignantly desiring flesh
The undeniable freedom that paints me
Cavernously juxtaposing my reality and existence in the golden of your pastiches