The Hawk Basement 3:22pm
I was going to write
a poem
listing My Psychiatric Diagnoses
but I decided
to make Potato Salad
instead
*maverick psychiatrist/author (1920 — 2012)
The Myth of Mental Illness
Schizophrenia: The Sacred Symbol of Psychiatry
The Tomato-coloured Couch 9:45pm
I see You at the doors
to Sobey’s with Your Wife
I’m with My Husband —
I dodge across The Parking Lot
to The Cart Corral
with Its Yellow Sign:
In The Event Of An Emergency
Gather Here
I sit cross-legged on the pavement
below The Sign —
Do You Come Over To Me?
Does My Husband —
Or Does He Converse With Your Wife?
When & With Whom
Do I Lift My Arms
Up & Out To The Sides
As I Did In Your Presence On October 22, 1993
To Voice, Not For The First Time
I Am In A Spiritual Emergency?
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 Tomato-coloured Couch 9:15pm
We Wear Our Minds Outside Our Selves:
if Our Hair is Frazzled
We have gone miles
in open wind
–
if Our Bellies are Big
We have gorged Ourselves
on Great Ideas
left under The Table
–
if We Smile
Our Contentment
may mean Our Wanderings
have lead Us
to Our Ends
–
if We Laugh
We are revealing
Our Most Primitive Selves
in defiance
of the psychiatric labels
for which We were sent away
The Tomato-coloured Couch 7:35pm
In One of My Countless Psychiatric Interviews
I was Once Asked The Question:
“What does the saying
Don’t Cry Over Spilled Milk
mean?”
I rose from My Chair
to find My Self Exclaiming
“Accidents Are A Necessity”
“Accidents Are A Necessity”
“Accidents Are A Necessity”
until The Psychiatrist
Doctor Appavoo
(I called Him Doctor Apple Voodoo)
had to shut Me up
The Tomato-coloured Couch 7:00pm
As I open My iridescent purple journal
printed with jewels
I have come to this place
where I am happy, fulfilled, & satisfied
despite the contradictory phraseology
pronounced severely over ten years ago
by My Psychiatrist (one of fourteen)
when I was insisting
I was The Second Coming of Christ:
“Joanna, You have so much going for You —
You’re intelligent, talented, beautiful
& This Idea is Wrecking Your Life.”
Then, less than two weeks later
from My Doctor Who became My Second Husband:
“–Joanna, You’re intelligent, talented, beautiful
You have so much going for You
I don’t see why you cling to This Idea –”
but cling to It I did
for twenty years now
& look where It has gotten Me
The Hawk West Desk Window 10:55pm
We live in The Era Coming
where there is no such thing as “Mental Illness”
no need for Psychiatrists
They can go home
no need for catalogues, labels, DSM volumes
or medication (except for sleep)
We Are Human All
behaving as Humans
within Our vast array of possibility
Our Observations
are based on fundamental perception
and based on Our interpretation of perception
within Its vast array of possibility
GOOD NIGHT
put on Your Tattoo Sweater, Black
fix Yourself an Ice Coffee
–a tall one–
sit on Your Back Deck
with the dishwasher going
& eggplant parmigiana in the oven
Open Your Journal
Aim Your Silver Pen
write
between
his puny
eyes
One Night On Bald Mountain
A Woman In Orange & Black
Stood Beneath Her Crow Painting
Armed With A Blunted Bread Knife
Witch, She Insisted,
She Was Using
To Make A Point
–
She Directed A Party Of Mounties
To The Idea
She Would Be Escorted To Hospital
Under One Condition:
That She Receive
No Medication
Against Her Will
Officer M– Wrote Down Her Request
–
She Surrendered Her Implement
Agreed To Be Strapped
In A Semi-reclining Position
Into The Back Of An Ambulance
To Be Driven Away
One Hour
To The Yarmouth Psychiatric Unit
Where Her One Condition
Was Not Met
–
Tonight, May 22nd 2012
My Husband Lay Beside Me
And Announced:
“There Are No Leaders”
Joanna Gilman Hyde 