There
be no sting
on the tail of a dove

A soul
knows nothing
of suffering love

soul
be an essence

to
all in ask

Who can stay in this life longer than one can stay?

Beauty holds us no more than the mountain’s vista holds water to the riverbed.

As sure as springs and torrents must meander back to open sea, so must we return to our source.

Drowning
in
Air

The nakedness of a woman, her quintessence, is up
and to the right. This is the locus of her femininity. I
feel it. It is, of course, exquisite. When I hold her, it is
her ineffable womanness that embraces me. I am in-
ebriated by her beauty, drunk with euphoria. She pours
all of herself into me. She saturates me with every drop
of her being. She is my ultimate complement, spiritually
and sexually. Her hair, her skin, her gentle, blue eyes
increase exponentially her limitless, spellbinding aura.
Is she not the glory of the heavens? I am enchanted
forever--forever, my dearest.

Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks

She was teacups made of China
and sunny spring afternoons.

She was soup
on the stove
when it was raining and grey
outside.

She was the gentle touch
of a birds feather
landing on my nose.

She was comfort in its essence,
and I hope to never lose her.

They say that scale can break the laws of science
A crime so high in magnitude
Yet they cannot police
This bully that reality turns out to be

We met by means of tunneling improbabilities
The kiss of a miracle
Punishing the God complex
Of the self-righteous
Because the real laws, unknowable,
Dwell in realms higher than dogmatic notion
Whose knowledge is the surface of an ocean

Hence judgement cannot be
Wrought by the swimmers
And their fear of mortality
That guides them through the waves
And so their laws are the transgression

And We
Are the justice of the storm

And he tried to read my love
I wrote between the lines
Slowly understanding my soul
I put within the words
Turning page by page
He realized my hidden mystery
My essence as a woman
Embedded in my rhymes