Joanna Gilman Hyde

"Good Morning, World!"

The Reincarnation of Sam

My dream last night

was of a large bird

with the ring-necked markings of Sam

an extravagant parrot

huge in colour

an armfull

as Eye tried to get Him

to perch on my left wrist

he landed on my head —

Eye wore Him like a hat

and asked My Mother

to take a picture

The Speck of Light

In the darkness of my room

Eye gleaned a speck of light

at the foot of my bed.

My Can Painting!

“M(eye) B-day Present

2 M(eye) S-E-L-F”

The speck grew as dawn came

into a constellation of three stars

and gradually revealed its configuration

of dripping paint

gleaming whiteness

and sparkling its flattened 7-up can

and shards of broken wine glass

given to me by a friend.

The Choice

This morning Eye presented My Self

with the choice of writing

at my little narrow writing desk

bought by Dr Blair over ten years ago

or, thanks to the weather,

out on my deck rail

in the sun

in my bathrobe

in the unseasonable breeze

with my copper kettle going

for whichever place:

to write that Eye have compartmentalized

my poetry journals, numbering 64

in chronological order

on a bottom oak shelf

in the former library

of Dr Blair

The choice Eye have made

is to write here, now

in my 65th journal

supported by the damp deck rail

and by the sounds of birds

and by the sight of the Atlantic ocean

which Eye call home

The Naming of Maria

This is written

on My Son’s 34th Birthday

“The Naming of Maria”

Who came to me

from a church ceiling

in Middle Le Have

during its 2016 Candlelight Service

while Eye listened to the song

“Her Name Shall Be Mary”

Eye have since stated

Eye have My Spiritual Daughter

dark-haired and timeless

She grows in My Mind

and Eye wear a heart-shaped gold nugget

in Her Honour

and sleep beneath Her Portrait

painted as the only figurative nude

Eye have ever painted

Eye have born the grief of Maria


yet Her Eternal Existence

fortifies me

Why Be Gender–neutral?

Does that mean you dont want to have sex with anyone or you want to have sex with everyone? What does it mean to be sex–less? Sort of like an alien? Why arent the descriptive terms gay or straight enough? Butt then of course there’s “Bi” and why isnt THAT enough?

X — Miss Eve

He was The Object

of M(eye) Desire:

The Pet

and Eye fed Him well

butt was that any way

2 run a marriage?


In the dark of 3 am

Eye was thinking to write

a poem titled Sordid-ity

(where Sordidness is the word)

with brown bedding

and perpetually closed curtains

in the apartment of my X husband’s girlfriend

but then Eye had a dream

of a temporary dorm room

where the bed was in the middle

and she lolled on a day bed

exclaiming she didnt think

she could be faithful.

A door opened across from me

to reveal her disjointed family

and Eye yelled out

“My name is Joanna–

sorry I haven’t met you yet!”

Miss — take

When Eye thought I was moving

Eye threw out my little black X–miss tree

black with feathers stuck on every bow

of Hawk drift wood

with a steak knife for a star

Someone took it from my pile of trash

and Eye was glad

The Eternal Light

Eye write my poem

beside The Eternal Light

flickering Its electric candle flame

encased in plastic design

with Its dangling red, white & green tag

still attached

The Toilet Sculpture Ghost

Eye have A White Toilet outside

my house

to replace The Golden Throne

Eye threw away

when Eye thought Eye was moving.

Ghost is missing Its water tank lid

so you can see inside

A Little Man of Silver sits

alone in there

and if you lift the white seat lid

you’ll see a Snake of Silver

with forked twistie tongue