The Hawk Portico 9:11pm
I Am The Call
Of The Black Crow
Outside My Kitchen Deck
Insistent, Declarative
Hungry For Any Response
In The Awakening Distance
Of Our Waiting World
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
The Hawk West Desk Window September 9, 2013 10:39pm
God Is A Device
Created In My Own Mind
The Hawk Family Room 9:11am
I am seeing ahead of My Self
to The Time Of Linkage
between The Black Crow
hanging in My Living Room
floating on My TV Screen
veiled over by The Shroud
of My World Trade Center Roof Top Painting
titled Self Organizing Galaxy
The Hawk West Desk Window 9:26pm
Something weird just happened to Me
when I was handing My Husband
2 Tylenol for His Sore Back
— and then handing Him
The Glass Of Water
to drink Them down —
I had a flash
of reliving the constant nights
of being fed medication
in The Yarmouth Psychiatric Unit
where The Nurse handed Me first
a little plastic cup of pills
which I threw into My Mouth —
I stood holding The Empty Cup
The Nurse filled It with an inch of water
from an ice cold stainless steel pitcher
for Me to swallow down
Joanna Gilman Hyde 