JB’s Barrington Passage 2:11pm
I saw A Star Man
in My Beer
DNE (singularity)
on a license plate
& My Girlfriend gave Me
magic earrings
for the day I was born
here I am looking
to the foggy Causeway Beach
ready for the all-clear
The Hawk Living Room 7:30pm
I ate My Potato Salad
& drank a beer
here by the open Living Room Window
at the edge of The Tomato-coloured Couch
but that was at the edge of The Galaxy
where stars burst & die
I would lie My Head on a blanket
& listen to the aftershocks
wafting through
on the surge
of ocean mist
& bird call
The Hawk Portico 4:50pm
I seem to be developing a pattern
of going back to sleep
after Hunter leaves for work
possibly to make up for the nocturnal interruptions
of letting Astro out
back in
of waking well before the alarm
waking & waiting
to rise & make the coffee
or take out the trash
as happened today
& today I did go back to sleep
dreamed
& so resurrected the remainder
of the day
even painted a small pine table Peter built
long ago & left unclaimed
to use now in the new library
for Hunter’s Stereo
The Hawk West Desk Window 8:30pm
There’s a man out of The Tub
Who doesn’t belong to Me
He’s My Husband in name only
& stands at My Side
to watch The Opalescent Sky
& The Sun go down
with Bands of Cloud
The Hawk Family Room 4:52pm
I Have A Message
fuelled by One Blonde Beer
sitting in A Brown Leather Swivel Chair
looking South Out A Double Window —
My Husband lists the unavailability
of Silver
by domestic bullion dealers
My Message Is: Gather Your Wits
buy what You can of Grain
& Gold
& hold onto Your Children, Your House
Your Guiding Beliefs
let not the government
break down Your Door
The Tomato-coloured Couch 3:33pm
What happened to That Long-haired Girl
Who painted That Giant Canvas
on The Roof of #5 World Trade Center?
I heard She turned 52
& writes in Her Journal
sitting on Her Tomato-coloured Couch
in Her astral-cork-floored living room
surrounded by beaches & dunes
waves & bird life
while Her Son starts a tree-planting job out West
& Her Daughter finishes correspondence courses
for Her Last Year
of High School
Joanna Gilman Hyde 