LIGHTHOUSE CALLING
The Hawk Queen Bed 9:25pm
How Many People
Hear The Twenty-two-second
Fog Horn Interval?
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The Hawk Queen Bed 9:25pm
How Many People
Hear The Twenty-two-second
Fog Horn Interval?
The Hawk Queen Bed 9:25pm
How Many People
Get To Sleep Under The Flash
Of A Lighthouse Near?
The Tomato-coloured Couch 5:04pm
Every Instance of My Life
Every Moment before I was conceived
has added up to where I am
right now, in this New Moment
writing in the dusk of My Favourite Living Room
on A Piece of Land I own
on An Island where I feel welcome
in A County I have traversed
in A Province I favour
in A Country where I am proud to be A Citizen
on A Continent which identifies Me
on A Planet I Love
and will Love
until I die
The Hawk Queen Bed 10:22pm
“Hey Everybody! This is God
yes, G-O-D
One of You, All of You
here, as always, to tell Us
We have a correction to make —
in case You were wondering
I am female —
52 years old in Body
infinite in Mind:
Caucasian North American
with a psychiatric history
not permitted to carry a firearm
but I can wear a bullet-proof vest
to guard My Castle-by-the-sea
where I live with My Husband
the very popular Dr Blair
& My Daughter, the very beautiful Eliza
& seven cats —
I’m not kidding around —
on March 31st, 1993, after four days of no sleep
induced by the death of My Mother
I had The Shower Of Silver Lights
crash down on My Head —
I thought I was The Second Coming Of Christ
but I didn’t want to give Christianity
that much credit
so I simplified My Title
My Essence
into Those Three Little Letters
& no, I don’t knowingly control the weather —
it controls Me
& yes, I believe in eternity
& The Sacredness Of Human Life
OR I WOULDN’T BE HERE!!”
“It’s Time To Hear My Rallying Cry
to sort out Our Miseries
Organize
Our Desires
Our Abilities
forget Our failings
Uphold Honesty
for where has Honesty
gone?
It’s Time To Apprehend
My Leadership —
I offer up My Self
for I am One Human
Who has seen The Light
& Knows It To Be
The Light Of This World
Our Precious Little World”
The Hawk Dining Room 5:20pm
Cami, My Husband’s Ginger Calico
— petite —
sits perfectly on the window sill
looking at a figure walking
up a neighbour’s drive
while I look beyond
& above
to The Windswept Swells
rolling into shore
The Hawk Kitchen 9:15pm
The Pink Residue
of My Husband’s Berries
& Ice Cream
lining His Dark Ceramic Bowl
poised to go into
The Emptied Dishwasher
is no longer a dirty dish
but A Modulated Receptacle
filled with One
Gigantic
Universe
The Tomato-coloured Couch 7:25pm
I have re-visited
My Dark Doorway
to remember Those same wavy
strings of Cat Hair
— and dust —
now that The Snow Particles
are gone
What’s left
but Dark Matter
composing
the majority of material
making up The Scape
of Last Night’s Stars?
The Tomato-coloured Couch 2:50pm
I’m still That Teenager
reliable
brawny
baby-sitter
paper-girl
proper student
bound to be a helicopter pilot
artist-on-the-side
My Weakness was My Eyesight
but I kept My Sights set on Nova Scotia
where I have ended up
making grilled cheese sandwiches
served with a pickle
for My Second Husband
when He’s home
from The Office
I snagged
along with
The Man
The Hawk Queen Bed 9:41pm
There’s a Star Scape
on The Window of My Black Front Door
back-lit by The Portico Light
— I know It’s snow, really —
but on close inspection
I see Little Threads
of maybe cat hair
individually straight
or wavy
String
Theory
