Smooth, the touch of a lovers hand upon your skin
which wakes a beating heart within
it stirs the sparks of bold desire
and fans the flames a little higher

they buried a poet
sprinkled his words over coffin
tossed a book into dirt alongside
and waited few decades
to have a leaf sprout
for winds to carry his lines
far
to one with open ears
another circle in a world of squares
have phrases strain down the cheeks
into ink smeared on paper


buried in a trashcan
in a diary
in a library
in dirt
everywhere really...

he walked away
with the sting
of youth
burning
a halo

noted
by those
who know
that the passage
of the years as time
makes its relentless march
is simply because we got up
and retired to bed as he did
every day of every year

and one day daffodils
were covered by falling
leaves with mulled wine
in mourning as frost waits
knowing it will soon succeed
in bringing lasting shadows to
all living breathing creatures
including the man who
saunters on by

There is a tender way to touch you,
not more than a brush across your cheek.
I seek a gentle kiss so not to miss your soft
and red-rose lips that meet mine, the glory
of your golden hair that falls upon my face
as I unlace your flowered blouse to place
my fingertips upon your silk-like skin to begin
to love the rest of you. I lay you down on soft,
blue sheets, your head upon pillows made of
wild willow leaves softer than robin's feathers.
I bare you beauty slowly that glows like a candle's
flame in a room that is at once so dark and bright.
The light comes from your luminous eyes that smile
at me as I reveal the rest of you from waist to knees
to heels and toes. No one knows the tender touch
I bestow upon your gentle being that I alone am seeing.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS

Lost spirits at dawn
come to my prickled
ear & sing to me
a midnight song.

Promise me, you won't
float away in the zephyr, nor
take too long,

for I am left with
the lost spirits
at dawn.

Strange object at sundown

Brittle heart

Living off the salt

Fighting for survival

Faithful as dogs

Broken as rock

The soil taking its soul

In the blaze of the sun

Stinging itself to death