Joanna Gilman Hyde

"Good Morning, World!"

Month: March, 2013


The Hawk Kitchen 9:37am

I floated down The Hudson River

on a cloud of pink

baby pink

but I had eyes

& could see My Parents

incestuous playmates

together at The Waterfalls

of Snedens Landing

I impregnated My Mother

& She tried to gallop on a horse

to get rid of Me

but since I stayed

She wanted Me

& stuck to Me like horse glue

The first year of human-hood

was spent in Africa

for My Father to teach Africans

how to drive tractors

& for My Mother to give dinner parties to African Dignataries

where Dr Schweitzer held Me

on His Lap

& looked at My Toes

As soon as My Mother & I came home by freighter

Howard was born

& He became My New Shadow

The Hawk Deck 10:37am

Our Mother raised us single-handedly

while Our Father, back from Africa & Divorced

toiled fruitlessly on a dairy farm

Howard & I grew into

robust teenagers

— He a musician

— I an artist

laden down

by My Mother’s Failed Love Affair

with a famous Jazz Player

Fuck This Shit —

I’m not laden down by anything:

Mother’s Old Lost Love

Her Early Death By Malignant Brain Tumour

My Shower of Unintelligible Light

on March 31st, 1993

Brother’s Dying on a Jail-house Floor

or Years of Depression

with My Daughter’s Early Childhood Memories

of Her Mother Lying In Bed

or Hospitalized for Weeks On End

That Daughter has just finished

washing Her Boyfriend’s

Black Dodge Ram 1500

& It’s Drying

in Perfect



The Tomato-coloured Couch 7:35pm

I caught an internal breath

after hanging The Preserved Newspaper Clipping

from The New York Times Book Review

dated June 4,1978 —

“Be A Literary Critic! Earn Big Bucks!”

hung first by Scotch Tape

in My Mother’s Valley Cottage Study

now hung, framed, in My Hawk Kitchen —

Did My Heart Really Skip

as I thought of My Literary Mother

Who, when I was eleven,

redacted Nova Scotia’s License Plate Slogan

“Canada’s Ocean Play Ground”

with black electricians tape?


The Hawk Deck 9:44am

Don’t Write, even though

You’re out on Your Deck

in a Red Deck Chair

in Your Purple Robe

Don’t Write

even though You can hear The Waves

You Love

past The Scrub Spruce

Don’t Write

that You can hear The Crows, Gulls

The First Mourning Dove

Don’t Write

that there’s No Wind

& You’re drinking Your Morning Tea

with Your Sun Glasses on

to watch The Glittering off The Sea


Hunter’s Library on The Hawk 5:47pm

Today is an ordinary day

Good Friday

& My Mother’s Pain seeps

through Me

how trite to say

It was The Pain of a Love Affair

— in Her Mind It was Her Muse —

& It was broken

by a small man

of large musical talent

Her Pain operates generationally

through Me

now that I am unhinged

from Her

I remain

entranced by

an iridescent disc

yelling at Me

DVD – RW x2


The Tomato-coloured Couch 6:30pm

My Mother’s Death is sewed up

in that wretched little town —

I don’t have to live there any-more —

Her House is sold with The Shower of Lights

fixed in a poem

I’ll never set foot again

inside that sordid little hospital

where She was stationed for over a year

& where She Evaporated Into Thin Air

on A Saturday Night

twenty years ago


The West Desk Window 6:54pm

The Thanks Bestowed

Upon The Day I’ve Lead

Unfurls Itself

Upon My Head

The Rays Of Sun

Behind My Clouds

Stirs Me Up

Makes Me Proud

a pathetic little poem

The Tomato-coloured Couch 2:15pm

Once, long ago, I was given

a little wooden box

from a man with whom I thought I was in love

the little black & green box was given

with directions:

Keep Your Dreams In This

Years later I gave the box

as a going away present

to a young woman

who was off to France

& once, years after that

I asked her about the little black & green box

& she said:

I think Leham keeps his marbles in it


The Tomato-coloured Couch 4:15pm

Sprung from a Cathedral Ceiling

in a House of 2000 Years

I sat below

rapid-fire spears of Silver Light


but for The Exclamation:

“Oh My God”


“OH MY GOD!!!”


The Hawk Family Room 12:45pm

In My Little White Gym Suit

Out On The Most Visible Rooftop

In The Whole Wide World

I Laid Out My Spiral Of Colour

For Humanity

& Let My Hair Down

Dressed In See-thru Black

For The Signing Of A Lifetime


The Hawk Kitchen 9:42pm

I possess All The Silver

here in My Silver Pen

necessary to unshadow doubts

about The World’s Organization

Natural or Man-made

for Which There Is No Division

I possess All The Silver

Showered Down Upon Me

filtered through My Pen’s Tip

to resurrect nothing

but what We hold in Our Hands

I possess All The Silver

to envelop This World

in the riches of Faith

in Humanity & God

for Which There Is No Division