Process
How stable are We?
As paint dries colour wrinkles
collapses even
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How stable are We?
As paint dries colour wrinkles
collapses even
Squiggle of Pink Gold
Rose from where Eye expect Sun
“Oh My Word!” World.
Rivulets of Dawn
drip, run along My Canvas
of morning sky, song
Above Her Title
The Creative Genius Stands
Beyond Her Profanity
Eye asked my husband
if I was a creative
genius — he said “No.”
My Paintings are loose
dripping like punctured abcess
colours even fall
The Human Mind can
and does believe anything:
Believe what you want
I never did like
the way he wangled his dick
along the stair case
Sky of Cloud only
first blush turns Florescent Pink
unexpectantly
My sculpture melted —
Dance Demonstration Request:
He told Me “Curtsy”
Joanna Gilman Hyde 