The Hawk Deck 8:55am
It’s warming up
to a beautiful day
I Am Ushering In My Life
out on The Deck
I Am Eating My Banana
in a contemplative mode
listening, as always, to North Eastern Surf
dressed in My Robe
of Warm Silver
The Hawk West Desk Window 11:30am
Every Morning I Am
A Woman Of Ritual
I Wake To Open The Blinds
Re-fill The Kitties’ Water Dish
And Drink From My Fridge Spigot
The First Of Many Glasses
Marked “LIFE”
–
I Log My Self Organizing Galaxy Views
At 9:11
Or 10:22
I Row For 22 Minutes And 22 Seconds
On My C2 Indoor Rowing Machine
And Then I Take
**My Shower**
The Literal Transformation
Of My Shower Of Silver Lights
The Hawk Window Seat 8:40pm
The Sky is half pink
half silver grey
with A Three-quarter Moon
above The Lighthouse
glinting through The Scrub Spruce
to My Bedside
The Hawk Deck 9:04am
Jimbo — the only thing that saved You
from Me
was Your homely visage —
the only thing that saved Me from You
was Your saying “Sleep
is going to be an issue
for the rest of Your life”
Well Here I Am
out on My Deck
in The Sun
with A Giant Quartz Crystal Ring
on My Right Middle Finger
sparkling across This Page
as I write with A Silver & Ebony Pen
from Birk’s
I AM GOD
The Hawk Deck 2:05pm
Am I The Fluffy Beige Cat
Lounging On Her Deck
Or Am I The Strutting Grey Gull
Looking For A Hand-out?
2:15pm
Everything Is Magical
I Am In The Realm
Of Magic Realism
9:27pm
The Moon Is Up There
Gold Against The Backdrop
Of Teal Showing Off
The Planet Venus
The Hawk Deck 9:48am
The Waves Are Still
In The Quiet Fog
The Coffee Steeps
I Read My Blog
The Tomato-coloured Couch 6:11pm
“Our Family deals with Its Dead
in a peculiar way
My Dad is buried under The Pine Tree named Helmuth
— Not My Dad but His Ashes —
We go sometimes & pour beer on Him
because He liked beer
He was in a one-gallon ice cream container
in the trunk of Mom’s Chevy Nova —
before The Pine Tree
My Father, Helmuth Art Putz, was in a beer stein
about a foot and a half tall
That Pine Tree grows exponentially —
Here’s Your Mom, in a golden box —
I was prying It open with a screwdriver —
I wasn’t sure if the ashes were really My Mother —
after We threw My Mom & Granmom into the river
— not Them, Their ashes —
We asked for a sign
all the lilly pads were stagnating
We threw in irises
a blue heron flew overhead
& the lilly pads lifted up”
The Hawk Deck 7:30pm
Nothing will unhinge My Happiness
here —
no dying or dead parents
no deranged brother
no cloak of depression
only My Black Cat Astro
— if He were to die
I would be heart-broken:
My Happiness mauled to pieces
Joanna Gilman Hyde 