Joanna Gilman Hyde

"Good Morning, World!"

Tag: artist

MY PRO-LIFE PROFILE

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”

 

 

PORTRAIT OF A CAT

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

ICE CREAM

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

SILVER EXPLOSION

The Hawk Window Seat 7:59pm

I am in the pose

of relaxed readiness

standing in My Kitchen

against the running dishwasher

I am leaning on My Right Hand

Right Ankle crossed

over Left

“Don’t be impatient”

“Don’t be impatient”

STAR SCAPE PART II

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?

WITH COMPLIMENTS FROM 1979

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

STAR SCAPE

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

FLATULENCE

January 19th, The Hawk East Kitchen Window

Have I written of The Wind

around here?

Now as I compose

one knee up to hold My Book —

The Wind is The Breath

of My Experience

of The Choppy Seas

The Vibration of The Trees

— to write It

is to feel It —

welling up in Me

as I stand on one leg

— My Left —

to write

& on Both

to read what I have breathed

MAESTRO

The Hawk West Desk Window 1:20pm

What orchestrates The Music

of The Universe?

What perpetuates The Orbital Spin

of Our Galactic Bodies?

Our Home Planets?

Time It cannot be

for Time is a Human Construct —

What then in Its Own Magic

raises Our Suns & Moons

guides Us through Our Days & Nights

allowing Us to Breathe?

OCEANS AWAY

January 17 The Hawk Queen Bed 10:55pm

Imagine going to sleep

with the windows open

more than a crack

in the middle of January

letting in the swoosh of waves

no wind

only the recollection

of words to a little doctor

in 1993:

I feel so vulnerable, 

I need a doctor who loves me —

I need to be taken care of

in more ways than one

in 2014

I thrive

in The Hawk Queen Bed

beside a giant doctor

who loves Me