OVERLAY
The Hawk West Desk Window 10:22pm
Our Dry Skin Is
The Star Dust Of Our House
The Cats’ Dander Too
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The Hawk West Desk Window 10:22pm
Our Dry Skin Is
The Star Dust Of Our House
The Cats’ Dander Too
The Tomato-coloured Couch 5:09pm
I have The Embodiment Of Physical Thought
periodically pulsating within Me, in My Gut
just below My Left Rib Cage
It calls My Attention
to whatever activity I am engaged in
— I feel It, The Embodiment, often —
The Thought It Carries
is always happy
It, The Pulsation, is The Tangibility
of Happiness
–
I am looking at A Star
— probably a planet —
and as The Star sets
behind black clouds
I summon It —
— The Sensation —
Happiness
The Hawk Kitchen 2:30pm
I Am The Mystic
Dressed In Green On Green
Silver Medallion On My Chest
Quartz Crystal Question Mark Ring Off
to take out the trash
I Am The Spiritualist
I Am The Occultist
I Am The Seer
Writing With My Silver/Onyx Pen
Quartz Crystal Question Mark Ring On
My Mother’s Random House Dictionary Of The English Language
Unabridged Edition Open
To “Myself”
The Tomato-coloured Couch 4:50pm
I am The Intellectual
sitting cross-legged on My Tomato-coloured Couch
drinking lemon-flavoured seltzer
from My Life Message Glass
–
I gaze from My Central Candle
to The Winter Window
& wonder when My “Good Morning, World!”
will enter every household
The Hawk Living Room 2:43pm
I’ve taken to lighting
A Candle Flame
in the middle of My At-home Day
The Hawk Kitchen 9:27am
I See Life Flicker
On This Coldest Of Mornings:
Birds Among Berries
The Hawk Dining Room 2:00pm
Last night Eliza strung A Garland
out of popcorn & dried orange circles —
She hung It over Our Dining Room Window
with Its view of sky & water
— I stood before It —
The Garland dipped at nose level
I smelled The Smell of Delicacy
I stood back to view
The Subtle Transparency
of One Curling Slice
angled against the clearing clouds
The Hawk Dining Room 9:26pm
The Sky Is Leaded Silver
The Ocean Molten
After The First Snowfall
Of Any Import
My Car Is Facing East
To Melt The Remainder
Of What I’ve Brushed
Ready To Go Mail
My Son’s Birthday Card
The Tomato-coloured Couch 7:30pm
What if You put into The Hands
of a 15th Century Native American*
Who had no way of knowing there would be
a 21st —
put in His Hands
an unopened, resealable package of frozen
Wild Jumble Berries?
*Who would have called Himself something different
Joanna Gilman Hyde 