The Hawk Kitchen Outpost 8:34am
The Scrub Spruce are receding
into The Fog
I have situated My Wrought Iron Chair
square on
to see The Spread of Ocean
when It clears
The Hawk Kitchen 7:38pm
The Universe is incubating
in My Red Teflon Frying Pan
I have dished out & up
all I am made of
& now it is up
to the stars
to see if I work
The Hawk Kitchen Outpost 3:51pm
My Outpost Window
is open to The Sea
screened against
moths & bugs I see
The Ocean framed
by The Upright Rectangle
of sliding glass
pushed up & open
to afford My Dream
treasured with The Song
of Birds
The Hawk Kitchen 8:30am
I have been wrestling
with God all My Life
finally I am winning
I have taken control
of the biggest force I know
& made Him do
His Dirty Work
for Me
The Hawk Kitchen 7:53am
The Silver Glare
alerts My Eyes
& shifts to flashes
of White
safe in My Kitchen
with the coffee pot on
I care not
for the rest of The World —
Oh but I do!
Eliza’s Bathroom 1:38pm
I stand on a mat of Purple
in My Purple accented bath
looking down at My Purple toe nails
& Teal coloured pants
looking from above at My Station
as The 3rd Wife of a successful doctor
The Mother of 2.4 Children I love
fiercely
A Revolutionary of Vision
an artist of words
The Hawk Kitchen Outpost 9:38am
The Ocean looks
like A Silver Bar
polished as if One
would polish
an old silver bar
regulated to The Sky
The Hawk Kitchen Outpost 9:32am
I watch The Play
of Silver on The Sea
My Horizon Line
is one streak
The Sky affords another look
at molten clouds
luminescent above
The Depths of seething
Grey
The Hawk Queen Bed 8:50am
Eye woke w/ The Dream
of M(eye) Mother
having Her 2nd Funeral
Eye was w/ Howard
in The Jordan Bay House
& She hadn’t died yet
Eye asked Howard where
We should have The Funeral
& He said Here!
We can put The Coffin
on The Sun Porch Table
& have Everyone park
on the grass. We can send
Her Body out to sea
& Eye said, It better go
way out to sea or
It will just wash up
in The Cove!
Eye asked My Brother —
“Have You ever known
Anyone Who’s had 2
Funerals?”
The Hawk Kitchen 6:41pm
There’s nothing delicate
about Me —
I talk with My Mouth Full
I wipe My Hands on My Pants
I dress in Fiery Reds
& Elevate My Voice
so that even The Deaf can hear
Me
for A Change
Joanna Gilman Hyde 