Joanna Gilman Hyde

"Good Morning, World!"

Tag: Nova Scotia


January 15, 2017

The Death Throes of a House


are very scary indeed —

I picked One up to make

It Die

in My Hand

to Me —


did not die —

It wrinkled free

and so I put Him

Down —

I placed Him —

legs — limp with Death

in the corner

of M(EYE)



The Hawk Corner Room 4:50am

EYE am gonna put on M(EYE) Clown Face

& leap around M(EYE) House In Time

to Classical Music in The Breaking Dawn

Soul Town in The Afternoon

& maybe Hip Hop @ Night

when M(EYE) Back

unkinks —

My Husband likes Me Now



The Hawk Corner Room 1:50am

EYE salute The New Corners

of M(EYE) House —

From Eliza’s Bed I face The West

Head On

and span My Naked Wrists across

The Globe

with no lint, loose strings or cat hair




The Hawk Corner Room 10:22am

M(EYE) Torture, My Life

EYE have sealed off Your Undried Blackness

I have rolled You up

for The World To See



The Hawk Corner Room 4:10pm

My Prison, My Sanctuary —

what I used to name Dr Blair’s

Big White Castle

where He worked hard and lived hard

for over thirty years —

is delightfully exposed

now, at The Foot of Dr Blair’s Big Brown Bed

here on The Hawk —

The Bed I have finally decked out

with new sheets and new comforter

in blues to go with His Eyes —

The Big Brown Bed in a pea-green room I left

in My Flurried Escape

returned to last night, but just

to sleep —

this morning I took down

The Lee Savage Drawings

facing Us:

A Woman (Lee’s Wife) with just lips

and Its Mate — Lee and Karen’s Open Porch

(on “My Side” of The Bed)

— Now, This Morning, I put up

The Frameless Oils

painted by The Syrian Brother

of One of The Doctors sponsored

by Dr Blair in 1999 —

The Year of Our Fateful Affair

— They’re A Pair of gaily painted

Houses —

The One on the left

is a small white house Dr Jamal Aboujamra

rented from Dr Blair —

and The One on the right

at My Night Time Feet

expressionistic-ally depicts the largest residential building*

in Barrington Passage

no longer owned by My Captor

swirling in brush strokes

of pink, peach and green —

The Giant Cedar

obscures high windows

of The Victorian Rooms

I floundered in

on couches and beds

while Dr Blair worked

in His Attached Office

I lay there and dreamed

on anti-depressants and Olanzapine

and wrote what would turn into

a book of poems

titled “No Bones About It

stored somewhere in the basement

of Our House here on The Hawk

where I have finally found My Self

My Art, and Jesus to boot

in Jethro Tull’s Aqualung

played on The Canadian French Radio

while working on My Secret Painting

here in My Own Little Corner Room

where I am finally free


*Dr Blair’s Big White Castle burned down on the same morning in December 2017 I left for Christmas vacation in British Columbia — to spend with His Family and My Kids — without him.

X – ill – Her – a – tion

The Hawk Corner Room 4:45am

I woke because I got up

I got up because I woke

visually stimulated

I made My Bed

and went to work

with One Green Drip

on M(EYE) final? canvas

up here in My Corner Room

classical music is playing

& it’s almost time

to take coffee to My New X —

Yes, We still do that


The Hawk Corner Room 4:50pm

EYE Live

on a widow’s walk

with One Magnificent View —

too bad the only people

EYE have to share It with

are The Birds.


Not even The Cats are allowed.


The Hawk En Suite Bath Window 7:32am

The October Sky about witch

other Lovers have written —

displays Its Self in Its earliest moments

as darkest grey against

faint peach light

The Tumult of The Century

looms in Its volume

and EYE have found The Solace of Thought

in Its Dramatic Commentary


The Hawk Window Seat 8:38am

Waking, briefly

seeing Liquid Blue

(Your typical sky blue)

crinkling all around, puddled —

next, a field of Blue Plastic

chips, shards, spread out


and This Morning, This Great Morning

(EYE) woke to see a flash:

Crystal Blue Droplets — A Myriad


Halifax International Airport 11:25am

Now that EYE have begun The Craft

of painting nearly every lamp shade

in M(EYE) House

— I have driven through foggy fall foliage

to pick up Hunter’s College Grand Daughter

and have decided to paint like

never before:

The Purely Decorative Canvas

maybe with some gold

to go above The Tomato-coloured Couch

replete with No

Deep Inner Meaning