chocolate is a verb

colors, flavors, whims and other growing things


fringed figure by jikThe drawing is undated, but my mother’s notations on similarly-fringed crayon artwork suggest I might have been between 3 and 4 when I made this one. How constrained it is, already. How tidily the blocks of color meet, but do not overlap, one another. And the palette — no red, no green, but these dark hues, and two pinks and a generous lozenge of yellow. Who was this girl and what did she see, without or within?

Home from several intense days at a huge writers conference, I leaf through a tattered scrapbook until I recognize this small figure rendered in such odd colors. I’ve returned with stuffed pockets — materials and conversations and the words of fine writers to be sorted and recalled, considered and absorbed.

Still buzzing and overwhelmed, not yet bursting with concrete ideas, I feel the electric pull of possibility as I lean into the wide canvas of morning.

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