The Hawk Deck 10:06am
I Am Guarding My Ocean
I Am Watching For Birds
To Record Their Song
Accompanying Each Moment
Of Scenic Bliss
A Dog Barks, A Neighbour Calls
To Another
While I Sit
In My Red Deck Chair
Taking Stock
The Hawk Deck 9:17am
The Air Has Cleared Here
The Ocean Dazzles My Brain
I Am Up For The Morning
In What Feels Like Early Fall
I Am Leaving Behind
Every Past Anxiety
Looking Forward To The New Aerial View
Of This Planet
Upon Which
I Thankfully Reside
The Hawk Queen Bed 6:30pm
I Am A Baby
In A Bassinet On A Beach
How Many Of Us Have Been Born On The Surging Crest?
How Many Of Us Will Die Upon The Ebb?
I Am Rocked To Sleep
By The Rhythm
I Am Awakened
To My Infancy
The Tomato-coloured Couch 1:52pm
I Am The Silver Bullet
Circling This Globe
Spermatozoan
In My Femininity
The Tomato-coloured Couch 4:40pm
My Fame Will Be
This World’s
Freedom
–
When I Am Found Out
Inside & Out
We Will No Longer
Believe
In Schizophrenia
Bi-polar
& Other Multitudinous
“Psychiatric Illnesses”
–
Silver Will Sky-rocket
Gold Will
Linger In Its
Old-fashioned Luster
–
Man & Woman Will Live Together
Unrivalled
The Hawk West Desk Window 10:55am
I am here to demonstrate
The Massive Capacity
of Our Human Intellect
born out of turmoil & strife
histories of flood & famine
long lines of creativity & invention
religious conflict
–
Out of All This Rises
A New Awareness
of
The Sacred Self
The Emergence
of
Our
New
World
View
The Tomato-coloured Couch 5:00pm
I Am Waiting
For The Impregnation
Of My Idea
For My Concept
To Be Opened Up
Sunk Into
& Savoured
For All Its Worth
The Tomato-coloured Couch 5:30pm
I Have Been Sent
By My Spirit
To This Time
This Place
For The Acquisition
Of A Proper
Life
Of Heady Happiness
Deep Mourning
& The Exclamation
Of Perfection
In All Things
The Tomato-coloured Couch 4:00pm
I stand in a shaft of sun
drinking from My Silver-frosted
Chalice of Life
I stop to look
at just what I am
consuming
I see The Earth
The Potency of Life
quivering
in My Well-oiled
Grip
The Hawk Deck 12:22pm
When I Drink Water
From My Chalice Of Life
I See The Bottom
Of My Glass
As A Fertilized Egg
Cradled
By My Little Finger
Joanna Gilman Hyde 