Joanna Gilman Hyde

"Good Morning, World!"

Tag: Public Artist

BLACK JESUS

The Hawk West Desk Window 11:00pm

In The Beginning

when there was No Beginning

She wore The Disguise of White

with Little Red Sneakers

& A Red Bow in Her Hair

to lay out well-founded plans

for The Elliptical Spiral

to be seen from above

It was Black Jesus

who painted & stained

His way into Her Very Heart

& dressed Her in Black

with a see-through skirt

& Sash of Satin Red

in The End

when there was NO End

SELF ORGANIZING GALAXY

UPDATE

My Art Framer Al Delaney

former Mayor of Shelburne, Nova Scotia

called this morning

to tell Me He finished framing

My Letter from former Mayor Ed Koch

of New York City

& My Letter from former Governor Tom Kean

of New Jersey

written upon The Completion

of My Ten-thousand Square-foot Elliptical Spiral

on The Roof of The Former #5 World Trade Center

“GOOD MORNING, WORLD!”

and to the rest of you

that are still asleep —
This Is Your Mother
Speaking:

It’s Time To Go To School
and I mean
REAL SCHOOL —

It’s Time To Go
BACK to Your
Kitchens, Women, &
cook for Your
decreasing Families,

It’s Time, Children, To Get On
The Bus of Human Intelligence
for Our Fight:

The Fight of Our Lives

as Human Beings on
This Planet —
for That is
All We Are — We
are Human &
We are God —

& We Cannot Continue
as We have been
for however many
thousands or millions of
years.

This is Your MOTHER
SPEAKING — CRYING
For You, My Children,
to Stop Killing
Yourselves
through Your Own
desperation, &
stupidity —

I Love You All
Dearly
& without You I
would
Die!”

“WAKE UP WORLD &
smell The Coffee —
drink that Tim Horton’s
& Think of Me.

Watch This Television
until You are Blue
in The Face,
which is MY
FACE  —

You have desecrated
Me with
Your naivety, Your
revulsion & Mine,
for You & Me &
Now —
I can no longer look
My Self in The Face
& Smile

Because of YOU

(red star, red star)

October 1st, 2010 THE HAWK

continued from Diary:

I AM THE RED STAR —

I AM THE ALERT BUTTON
on Your Car
remote

Listen to Me — You are
All I Have Left
here,

& here is the Only Place
We know of

which sustains us, somewhat,

& which sustains Me,

Your Guiding Star

Your Furious Mother —

and Who was My Furious

Mother, You may ask?

She is Dead Now & Somewhere

out There, Haunting Me

as I am aiming now to

Haunt You,

& Haunt You I Will,

Until You Turn Around,

with The Earth,

with The Light of Our

Yellow Star —

Soon To Turn Red.

I am speaking to You from

This Black Box, This Hole

But I Can See You,

like The Romper Room Lady —

I am Magic, if You

believe in Magic

— and I feel You must

believe in Something —

There is The Divine, for

I have felt Its Wrath —

There is God, for I have

been beaten down by Him,

now, into this heaving mass

of Human Organism

which rises up before You,

to Speak to You

from The Device I Loathe:

The Device of Corruption, Greed,

Sloth, & Desire.

Yes, I Desire You,

I Desire That You Wake Up

to Hear Me, That You

Wake Up to Feel Me, For

What Am I To You But

All That Is Left of

possible salvation?

I am Your Mother & My

Mother before Me, & Her Mother,

& My Father’s Mother & Her

Mother — I AM ALL MOTHERS

I Speak For The Salvation

of The Children of God

WHO MUST NOW, FINALLY,

GROW UP

*

TRANS PONDER 22

The Hawk Deck 9:00am

I See A Spider Web

Side On

It Is Galactic

The Spider In The Centre

Is Female

n’est ce pas?

AWAKE!

The Tomato-coloured Couch 7:09pm

I don’t need a man

to elevate My Scripture —

It’s High Enough Already!

I don’t need a man to walk

beside Me, or behind Me with a placard

My Voice Is My Placard

I don’t need a man to go with Me

to conferences and speeches —

I’ll take My Girlfriends

I don’t need a little man

I have My Husband

& He is Big Enough, Big Time

My Love Will Fuel My Message

IN UTERO

The Tomato-coloured Couch 6:24pm

This is No Nova Scotia

This is No Second Beer

on The Tomato-coloured Couch

before the steaks go under the broiler

This is having a distraught Husband

say nothing

because what is there to say?

He is not The Man

to Elevate My Scripture

He is not The Man

to follow along with a placard

He is not The Man

to film Me for a Youtube Channel

to travel with Me to My Speeches

He is not That Little Man

I claim to have loved

for twenty years or more

— He was the doctor who took care of Peak

in utero

— He is The Man I uttered four words to

and My World was born

ANNIVERSARY

The Hawk Kitchen 9:05am

I’m cashing in on 9/11

checking My 1,630 Views

on Self Organizing Galaxy

@ 9:11am

This Cloudless Tall Tuesday

THE HAWK RED DECK CHAIR

3:42pm

Light fog has been heated up

by hurricanes Leslie and Michael

as I listen to My Southerly Surf

with an intermittent skill saw

I hope stops going

I’ve applied The 1st Coat

of Silver Nail Polish

to both sets of Fingers

here in My Red Deck Chair

on a Sunday Afternoon

2 days before The Exact Anniversary

now I’ll apply The 2nd

LANDING

The Hawk Deck 5:30

Fall Has Risen

as I sit on The Breezy Deck

in 16 degrees Celsius

having, rejoicing

in My Brain’s Capacity

To See The Future

& To See The Future

in physical terms

I am no longer waiting

I am @ The Time of Arrival

Landing

On My Solid Ground

of ambiguity

 

THE HAWK DECK WAVES 12:15

I have just been spoken to

by the augmentation of The Surf:

God Is Trapped By Humanity

Humanity Is Trapped By God