The Hell With “Art”
—- Eye have re-created The Holy Trinity:
God The Mother, Daughter and The Holy Ghost
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—- Eye have re-created The Holy Trinity:
God The Mother, Daughter and The Holy Ghost
Here is an artist’s note on the back of her painting
found at the Salvation Army in Yarmouth, Nova Scotia:
“Jim, Here is the painting that you forgot to take with you on Saturday. I hope you like it! Hope to see you again soon.
From, Robin”
Robin MacGillavray ’99
When Eye was a child
I decided The Bathroom
was My Favorite Room —
that if the house blew apart
in a hurricane
It was The Bathroom
Eye would live in —
& I would sleep in the tub
Eye painted a Wave
once
on a lobster crate slat
and It came out perfect
with the dazzle of Silver
sparkling off Its edge
to catch My Eye this morning
here in My Corner Room
where Eye live in My House
to think
and to look at The Sun’s Molten Light
gleaming to Me
from The Sea of My Existence
Dr Blair will you please
claim the life
of Your Dead Computer —
Eye do not want It
Hulking up My Work Table
Eye do not want It
Eye make My Bed
upon rising
Eye make My Art
upon the morning dark
dancing to the music
of black frustration
Veiled Sky Pulls Back
Revealing My Glowing Day
Dawning Underneath
My Daughters Eye Wear
On My Right Ring Finger
and My Left —
My Finger of Engagement
Is For Blonde Eliza:
Eye Made Her Up To Be
A Woman Who Could Do ANYTHING
(and She Would Have To Be Beautiful)
Her Turquoise Tear Drop
Is Set Between Two Tiny Diamonds —
She’s Coming Home
On My Father’s Birthday
To Stay Four Days.
Golden Maria Stays Forever
On My Right:
Her Unformed Heart
Is Eternal Strength —
She Is My Beautiful Dark Haired Woman
With The Most Melodious Voice
Who Appeared On My Right Shoulder —
Who Was Taken From My Womb
On My Mother’s Death Day —
Who Came To Me To Be Named.
These Two Women Are My Daughters:
One Light, One Dark
One To Have In Life, One In Death —
One Joy, One Comfort —
These Two Daughters
Are My Sacred Accessories
To MIND
My Work, My Fun
is conglomerated
packed inside
My House
like baby tiny spiders
hatching out
to live their fragile lives
in amongst the nooks
of My Exterior
Eye sat beneath
His Silver Tree
& heard a bird
I could not see —
I looked and looked
& heard some more —
then saw its yellow
fly off to Yore
Joanna Gilman Hyde 