I'm trying to finish this famous contemporary poet's
fourth collection, which groans under the weight of
all the glowing blurbs on the back cover.

The famous contemporary poet avoids rhyme as if
it was a downed wire and finds form too restrictive--
hangs her skelly on a hook when she composes.

The famous contemporary poet writes a few poems,
carefully packed in vignettes, snapshots, and musings,
all the excelsior found in any packing crate.

In high school I had an acquaintance, this guy.
He'd toss out something cryptic and then wait
like he'd flipped you a Rubik's Cube.

Everything out of his mouth was a test and he'd give
you this bright smirk, like can you figure it out and
get to where I am, up here?

I would like to meet the famous contemporary poet
and show her one of mine, plain as the flat of my hand
when it breaks her nose and the blood comes.

I am trying to finish the famous contemporary poet's
fourth collection even though it's like watching a movie
with muddy sound, in dialect, no captions.

THE POEM IS ALWAYS THE PRIZE

Beware of winning prizes, because
prizes can pull you away from your  
center, the locus of worth. Poetry is
the countervailing force to falsehood.
Poetry is the path to truth and away
from pretension and fabrication. Notice
I did not write perfection, for truth is
never perfect, but it is always honest,
and honesty, not perfection, is what
humanity always needs. Sappho, Whitman,
Dickinson, and Blake--none ever won a
prize, but their poetry will always offer
readers eternal beauty. Poets are more
precious than politicians and profiteers,
because the poem is always the prize.

Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks

I'm trying to be born again.
I'm going to conquer the world.
I'll fight against the time.
I'm going to live my dream.
I'm going to get up early in the morning.
I'm going up to the sky to have a hug of yours.
I'll dream you're here.
I'm going to draw your smile on the stars.
I'm going to get all the money in the world.
I'm going to win prizes and collect merit.
I'm going to buy a compass.
I'll wear the best clothes
I'm going to create ties.
I'm going to climb the highest mountain
But father ...
You're not here anymore.
No moment will have meaning without you.
No compass can guide me, only you.
Only you could tame all my hurricanes.
Only your good-night kiss on my cheek kept me safe.
Only your scent made me feel alive.
Now you've decided to leave me papers and pictures as souvenirs.
Now I only have your legacy as a bible.
I no longer have your hand to hold when I'm afraid.