The Hawk Portico 12:15pm
There is Power in My Writing
It is not just Black
in Black’s simplicity
My Writing is All Colours
It is Alarm-bell Red for Stopping
It is Blue for Breathing
The Sky
It is Yellow for The Sun
It is Silver for Humanity
There is Power in Humanity
We are no longer
weaklings
groping Our Way
to death
We are Above death
for I have seen
The Light
of
Our Night
and I believe
We Are Eternal
The Hawk Outpost 9:22am
Harken Silver Sun!
Your Glare Is All
I Worship
Your Rise Each Day
Makes Me Live
Makes Me See
Beyond My Kitchen
Window Frame
Out To The World
I Love
The Tomato-coloured Couch 7:00pm
The Silver Lights
crashed down
all around Me
& I cried out
“Oh My God
Oh My God!
Oh My God!!”
I
Am
The
Second Coming
of
Christ
I
Am
unravelling
The Mystery
of
The Meaning Of Life
an idea
which
cannot
be expressed
yet
I saw
It
in the dark
of a little hospital room
in
Shelburne, Nova Scotia
on March 31st, 1993
It, The Meaning
opened out to Me
like a pod
of
chocolate
I
saw
The Reason For Schizophrenia
I
saw
that I Am
The Reason
The Light
The Life
&
I will coat
My World
in the luscious
residue
of My Vision
until
The World
Gets
It
The Tomato-coloured Couch 5:30pm
My Name Is
Joanna Gilman Hyde
and I Am The God
Who Fell From The Sky
& shaved off His Beard
& stuffed Tissue
down The Front Piece
of His Robe
& held up A Sign
for All The World To Read
saying “I Am Woman”
(& not a Transvestite)
The Tomato-coloured Couch 2:00pm
I have painted
giant canvases
spread My Self across
the geography of Canada
written volumes of poetry
married twice
to capable men
carried My 2.4 Children
I live now in a house
of My Own Choosing
I am The Artist In Residence
in painted-on jeans
with tea steeping
in My Kitchen
The Hawk Kitchen 11:22am
I don’t have to write
about My Very Old Depression
I don’t have to go on
The Rowing Machine
unless I want to
I can sit in My Grandmother’s Kitchen Chair
& drink tea in My Bathrobe:
I AM LIVING
THE CLEAN SLATE
OF MY LIFE
The Hawk Outpost 8:24am
I feel I am running out of time
to write of My Silver Sky
can You hear the desperation
in My Voice?
It lies before Me
but The Clouds
are shifting
& The Light on the ocean
has diminished
to one Silver Streak
The Hawk Outpost 5:40pm
The Swath of Blue is back
with The Lower Sun
against The Scrub Spruce
between Me and The Ocean —
I have one knee propped
to write out My Exclamation
of an evening in early fall
with steaks under sauce
ready to be broiled
& My Life Glass
ready to be refilled
The Tomato-coloured Couch 3:25pm
I had a suburban upbringing
counteracted by summers
on a Wild Island
off the coast of Nova Scotia
I was a Nyack Public School Student
with paper route and good grades —
on The Island
I wore no clothes
and turned My White Bread Ass
Honey Brown
The Tomato-coloured Couch 2:55pm
I cannot lay My Self down
upon My Tomato-coloured Couch
I cannot —
I must sit here & write
& let the Ativan do its trick
I will drink My Tea
& not think of the years
of wasting away in beds
on couches, brown, green
& white
Joanna Gilman Hyde 