The Hawk Kitchen 10:30am
The Food Hamper from Yesterday
has been disassembled
disposed of out on The Grass
for The Gulls & Crows
— They know nothing
of Hell & Damnation
Sin & Salvation —
The Orange I rolled
into The Compost
is
safe
The Tomato-coloured Couch 1:11pm
I live with A Demon
of My Own Creation
caged above Me
in My Living Room
He is black & dirty
with giant bird shit
dripping off the upper right corner
of His Chicken Wire Cage
first laid across Him
on the 4th Floor
of Cooper Union’s Foundation Building
where He came to Life
never to speak — only to glare
with His Brilliant Eyes
down upon His Audience —
Yet Today He Speaks!
Through Me as I speak out
for The Creature of My Fierce Fear —
My Fear of being locked in
or up
or out
as I have been locked inside
psychiatric wards
for years on end
I am OUT NOW
& I can speak My Mind
no matter how It comes out
I AM BLACK JESUS — but
not because I am dressed in black
I AM BLACK JESUS — because
I can speak
for My Desperate Crow — d
The Hawk Kitchen 5:20am
I just woke from a crystal dream
of watching an elderly Bride
through a car window —
Hunter was with Me in the car —
The Bride was sitting, waiting
in a white wool knitted cap
there was a sign next to Her:
“Wedding Today”
She had smudged fuchsia lipstick
& and black hair beneath Her cap
but She was OLD
–
Her elderly Groom came to Her Right Side
holding a Single Black Rose
with a little brown bird ornament
which He offered to pin on His Bride
She hesitated but was glad to receive It
I watched & I cried
I cried
& cried
I stand in sublimity
observing The November Sun
setting Its Light
against The Panorama of Spruce
out My Back Kitchen Door —
Subtle Clouds are rippled
like beach sand
& The Crows have yet
to finish My Offering
of old Shepherd’s Pie
The Hawk Living Room 6:40pm
I wrapped The Corpse
of My Mother
in Saran Wrap
so I could see Her better
& carried Her inside the house
My House
so I could hear Her better
I refrained from putting Her
inside the freezer
& carried Her instead
to the downstairs bathroom
to partake in the ceremony
befallen all The Others
Note: This was written on the last page of My Keith Haring Journal
I once stood before a window screened
with hardware cloth
in an institution
of not My Choosing
–
from an upper storey
I stood there as if
before a microphone
I called out
to imaginary Children below
to save Them from the water’s edge
to save The Gulls from extinction
Cami finally has on Her Collar
with A Bell
I drink My Morning Coffee
with Bird Hunting Gunfire
off The Cape
The Hawk Living Room 2:26pm
Why try to rectify
the capture of another Bird
by Our collarless cat
The Huntress?
This one didn’t die
It was merely shocked
but in My upset
I saw what I had left:
the embodiment of My Depression
like a terrible wound
before I found happiness
in a healing World
of My Own
Joanna Gilman Hyde 