Joanna Gilman Hyde

"Good Morning, World!"

Tag: creative writing

RIGHT WRITE

The Hawk West Desk Window 4:11pm

I have A Voodoo Pain

at the inside of My Left Upper Arm

It’s telling Me to Right Write

telling Me to leave My Tea

telling Me to describe The Pain:

“It’s Itchy, Man!”

pulsating

not now, not now, not now

is It gonna happen again?

I do want My Tea

I’m gonna go get It —

(came back)

NOW — The Pain came again!

but what am I supposed to Right

— how silly — to be Writing

about Righting

ooh — again!

It’s My Left Upper Arm, Near My Elbow

It’s a panging itch

lasts about a second —

If I could Write anything

what would I Write Right Now?

ooh — It came

what would I Write without losing My Audience?

Only That Which I Am Capable Of Knowing:

My Self

I Write about My Self All The Time

I Love My Self

but I see My Self as only Half —

I went to the bathroom

& The Pain continued

I think It’s telling Me

to keep Writing:

I have another Half

in The Form of A Little Man —

I’m gonna make another Cup Of Tea

I’m back

My Rings were on the sink

I put Them on

I Love My Rings

They’re Mine

They have no Halves

I let in My Black Cat

Astro Jasper Cosmo

He’s All Mine

though My Husband Loves Him Too

My Tea is steeping

I haven’t felt another Voodoo Pain

I’ll go check My Tea

Look at all the “I’s”

going Write down this page!

EMPHATIC STATEMENT

The Hawk Deck 2:22pm

What will happen with anything?

What will happen with

My One Surviving Manuscript

in My Father’s Widow’s House

in Vermont —

if It’s even There?

There’s a 6′ x 8′ painting There too

folded up, maybe in a file drawer

& I want It back

How will These Items

ever be returned?

They may have no monetary value

now

but I believe

The Manuscript at least

plays a part

in the unfolding

of Our Future

MY 200TH POST

The Hawk Deck 6:42pm

What is It that makes A Poem?

Is It the induction of waves

louder now than usual —

or is It a lost conversation

with a Siamese cat named Moulan

(Who seemed to be listening too)

or is It a reminder

when eating canned peaches

that I made a giant sculpture once

“Peaches & Blades”

going floor to ceiling

filling the lobby of Cooper Union’s 4th floor?

Is this A Poem?