In the ocean of the mind,
Must lie a sea of fantasy,
Imaginations of every kind,
Of love and pain and ecstasy.

If you still wish to seek me for
another poem,
another momentary desire,
another ***** tear to lick,
another night to melt,
or for a little death

I will be waiting,
burning,
yearning,
for your small hands

To taste your tears of joy
To drink lavender tea poured from your mouth
To savor your lips after you have licked them
To wrap your curls around my neck till I suffocate
To melt into the scarlet of your cheeks

This is not a love letter,
I simply long for the forbidden parts
of you

The way that winter comes at me,
as if a stranger from a side street
cold and dark accosting me. I turn
my collar up. He hollers, "You, there!"
Faster I walk, fear chilling me,
a lamp post but a grey ghost in the fog.
This ****, winter, mugs me. He hits me
in the face with frozen fists. He grabs me,
stabs me in the side with knives
of ice, slices at my heart, the home
of hope. Supine, frost forming on
my brow, I pray to boughs of willow
trees;  pines will sing my elegy. My mind
drifts like snowdrifts:  a mitten lost...
fingers, nose, toes frostbitten...
a lake of isolation...a sleigh with no
horse...a blizzard of insanity.
My blood thaws the frozen ground,
then freezes.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS

Paired minds broke up.
Walls were erected in their minds.
Weak people were trampled by the
rich and the powerful.
I grew up seeing this time and again.
Is it wrong to cry in your heart for being a witness to this unending tragedy.