The Hawk West Desk Window 9:11pm
The Voice, My Voice
which emanates from
My Sordid Black Box
is The Strident Voice Of Command
laying out facts
straight on a platter
not as an offering
but with the insistence
that You take
what I dish out
not as punishment
but to quell the notion
of an ideal world
for Our World is The Real World
dark & defiant
crawling with Human Beings
The Hawk West Desk Window 8:22pm
What if I could wipe out
all religions
in one fell swoop
but leave God intact?
What is My Vision of God —
a little leprechaun
or a giant pink cloud
or, cutting through that hokiness —
is My Vision
of The Guttural Voice
— not a vision at all —
but My Voice when I speak
standing within the confines
of My Black Box?
The Hawk Deck 4:11pm
If My Book were near Me
would I write?
Yes, I’ll go get It
& bring It outside
I thought, earlier
to write a poem titled
“What Is Depression?”
but all I could come up with
is It’s The Opposite
of what My Life is now —
One of fulfilment, contentment
& Big Ideas
to ground The Rest of The World
into Balance
The Hawk West Desk Window 11:03am
I’ll never tire
of picking up Galaxies
of dust & cat hair
inside My House
My Right Hand is The Perfect Tool
& The Waste Basket
The Perfect Receptacle
The Hawk West Desk Window 9:11am
My God is not The God
of honey & sunshine
butterflies & beetles —
My God is The God
of 9/11
Hard-hitting & Hard-core
The God of The Dark
through Which railing against
We find Our Heart-felt
Heart-beating Meaning
of Life
Joanna Gilman Hyde 