The Hawk Outpost 8:20pm
The Sky To The North
Is A Palette
Of Textured Greys
Positioned Laterally
Over Pale Blue
As If
Stroked
Against The Atmosphere
By A Hand-held Stippling Brush
With Finger-tipped
Precision
The Hawk Queen Bed 9:44pm
I have written words
I have painted pictures
I have never sung a song
Has there been enough
of Me?
When will The World stop
to assess My Persona
d’Artiste Extraordinaire
Who has yet to live
to Her Fullest Capacity
under the guise
of —
nothing
The Hawk Window Seat 4:27pm
Today My Black Jesus
Outfit List
inadvertently, but with My Consent
went into The Hands
of A Young Man
in Whom I have My Faith
as An Artist
as A Writer
as A Person
as A Creator
I hope His Acquisition
finds Its Way
into His Future
The Hawk Queen Bed 10:22pm
I Am The Black Ball
nesting under
Yards & Yards of White Satin
lined with feather boa
for an art school project
thirty-two years ago
–
I Am The Black Pearl
making People feel uncomfortable
like The Grit
inside an orgasmic oyster
lined with Phosphorescence
–
I Am The Black Jesus
in a White World of Innocence
here to make People understand
Their True Beginnings
of Sperm & Egg
& how They, We, have arrived
at Our Present Global Form
–
I Am The Blanket Of Night
with The Moon Glowing
underneath
echoing The Face of Humanity
for All of Us
to see Our Selves
with Newly Opened Eyes
The Tomato-coloured Cock 9:22pm
(notes from an unscheduled meeting with an old psychiatrist)
“You’re just a very nice Lady Who lives in Shelburne –”
“Well, I don’t live in Shelburne anymore —
and do You know
what colour My Underwear is, Jimbo?”
“No, I don’t”
“It’s Red — Jimbo — Red Lace — and
do You know how many views I have
on My New York City Rooftop Painting?
three thousand, and twenty-two — what do I stand for Now?
“I don’t know –”
“I’m An American — Jimbo —
dressed here in Red, White and Blue
wearing My Pro-Life underwear —
and if You ever call Me a nice lady again
I’ll kick You in the balls”
The Hawk Living Room 9:30pm
I’m standing, hovering
above My Mini –
fireplace — My Candle
abra in the center
of My Chinese Coffee Table
I just had to write about
it, here in the dark —
no Other Lights are on
I am writing like a blind woman
Yet I have just had the
satisfaction of eating
a President’s Choice
Decadent Chocolate Chunk
Sandwich Cookie
with My wool-socked feet
up before the
flames
The Tomato-coloured Couch 6:41pm
I’m not trapped by Black
— that’s Black Jesus —
I’ve thrown away all
My Black Clothes
& I’m in Grey now
I still write in books with Black Covers
& The Black Ink comes leaking through
making Me sit up straight
legs crossed
Right Hand
adroitly holding
My Onyx Pen
tipped in Silver
The Tomato-coloured Couch 5:22pm
Mrs Blair sits in Her Hawk Living Room
furnished sedately but for
a staircase painted red —
She ponders the significance
of Humanity
and wonders if the music on Coffee House
is telling Her things
She should pay attention to
–
seltzer sits fizzing in Her LIFE Glass
on the glass coffee table
and She’s about to eat
some leftover pasta salad
before contemplating
Her next
3 seconds
Joanna Gilman Hyde 