The Hawk Portico 2:10pm
I live in a spring-sung aviary
— it has no cage —
I sleep to the peepers
birds mark the day
they have no boundary
but the shore beyond
I live My Life in sustenance
long past the unsung
chapters I wrote
devoted to loss —
now I am here
with wings
as My Cross
The Hawk Library 5:22pm
Here is A Painting
I have followed all My Life
first at The Valley Cottage House
over the white mantle
then moved to a dark wall
of The Shakespeare House kitchen
Now, in Its mature glory
hung in Hunter’s New Library
where I can sit in Our Wing Chair
across from The Subtle Watercolour
of The Moon as unpainted paper —
Its reflection’s sparkle unpainted
and Its Luminosity
spread from inky cloud
to Hudson River Water Scape
with a 3-planked, 4-posted dock
bathed in silver
–
*Ernest Beverly Walden
The Tomato-coloured Couch 4:45pm
“Hey Jimbo — what colour
is My Underwear?”
“I have no idea –”
“Red, Jim — RED —
I’m Pro Life –”
“That’s good –”
“I have 2,311 views on Self Organizing Galaxy
— where I was white in the beginning
& black at the end –”
“What do You want Me to do?”
“There’s nothing You CAN do, Jim —
I’m angry
& American“
April 5th, The Hawk West Desk Window 10:50pm
Tonight I Hear The Peepers First
A Sound I Hold So Dear
Heralding My Spring To Me
Allaying All I Fear
Such As Death
So Near To Me
I Read Of Just That Fate
For One Guy F. Tozzoli In New York
Who Permitted Me To Paint
The Tomato-coloured Couch 4:57pm
I’ve been mismatched All My Life
yet all these cock-eyed relationships
have lead to The Castle I now occupy:
My Beautiful Home By The Sea
housing six cats, All My Artwork
& thirty pounds of diaries
The Tomato-coloured Couch 2:28pm
Numerous Little Black Birds
of an unknown variety
spun Themselves into a bulbous school
& flew around behind
with My Head in A Whirl
to see Them light
straight-lined on a wire
The Hawk Deck 9:44am
Don’t Write, even though
You’re out on Your Deck
in a Red Deck Chair
in Your Purple Robe
Don’t Write
even though You can hear The Waves
You Love
past The Scrub Spruce
Don’t Write
that You can hear The Crows, Gulls
The First Mourning Dove
Don’t Write
that there’s No Wind
& You’re drinking Your Morning Tea
with Your Sun Glasses on
to watch The Glittering off The Sea
The West Desk Window 6:54pm
The Thanks Bestowed
Upon The Day I’ve Lead
Unfurls Itself
Upon My Head
–
The Rays Of Sun
Behind My Clouds
Stirs Me Up
Makes Me Proud
The Tomato-coloured Couch 9:21pm
I wonder if I can wring out
a poem about A Sky
I didn’t see
Oh — I saw The Front of It
with Its opulent Gold
hiding the sun —
but the back of It went uninspected
& only later to be imagined
with Its pale pinks, lavender
& clouds of thinning Silver
The Hawk Dining Room 1:30pm
When I happen to see A Single Wave
breaking outside My Dining Room Window
can It possibly know
The Impact is has upon Me
even for The Day?
Joanna Gilman Hyde 