The Hawk Deck 1:00pm
The Yellow Bird has visited again —
He has not chirped of God
but of His Friend
in another tree
The Hawk Deck 11:30am
I Am God THE OBSERVER
I Am God THE LISTENER
I Am A Human Being
In Love With The Land
Where She Lives
The Hawk Deck 9:55am
I have The Solace
of a Day In June
cool, but garbed in My Grey Bathrobe
I am ready for a cup of tea
& more Bird Song
June 4, 2013 The Hawk West Desk Window 10:30pm
I Have Three Regrets:
ended up buried
& capped
in The Orangetown Dump
in Rockland County, New York
–
Five Copies
of My 364-page Manuscript Monument
to The Death of My Mother
ended up shredded
and put out by
the side of the road
here on The Hawk
–
The Third
was of My Body
and doesn’t fall within
This Category of Art
but the regret I feel
for this death
will never be acceptable
–
How Different Would My Life Have Been —
How Different From The Comparative Perfection
In Which It Is Lived NOW?
The Tomato-coloured Couch 5:40pm
Oh that spinning game
where the grown-up grabs
the child’s wrists
& swings him/her around
& around
am I in this game
in the path of Earth & Moon
& that Adult —
Who is He?
The Tomato-coloured Couch 2:15pm
I do not wonder at My Father’s Death —
how It was for Him
as I wonder at My Mother’s
My Father may have been asleep —
He died in the night
as far as I know
but My Mother was wide, wide
awake
& blazed Her Eyes open
except for one torturous blink
which opened back up
in Her Last Guttural Heave
The Hawk Living Room 5:40pm
“Life Springs Eternal”
from My Fingertips
surrounding My Candle Holder of beer, now,
I am drawn into Golden Bubbles
countless
like The Stars
so why try to count —
Who The Hell Cares
as long as You can
drink Them in
& take That Star Juice
into Your Own Body
for the makings
of Men & Women
Children & Pets?
The Hawk Kitchen 7:15pm
I used to announce to Hunter
when I felt a wave of happiness
& now I have felt not The Wave
but The Smooth Line — The Flat Line
of complete fulfilment:
It came in My Kitchen
cooking Fettuccine Alfredo
with spaghetti noodles
& looking out the sink window
to the evening light
on the rocks
lining My Cellar Drive
Joanna Gilman Hyde 