chocolate is a verb

colors, flavors, whims and other growing things

Tag Archives: art

found poem: art survives


found poem © j.i. kleinberg

found poem: a custardlike cloud


found poem © j.i. kleinberg

found poem: the moon

found poem: art

found poem: a poem

this evening in Bellingham!

Please join us this evening at the Mount Baker Theatre Encore Room where Poetry Postcards: a panel and conversation will be a lively exploration of the poetry and art of postcards. We have a terrific panel of poets, artists, educators, and avid fans of the postcard, including Tallie Jones, Nancy Pagh, Eugenia Hepworth Petty, Ina Roy, Joanna Thomas, and moderator Paul Nelson.

There will be lots of images, poems, and conversation about spontaneous poetics and how postcards fit into our text/social media/email/hashtag lifestyle, plus a couple of the panelists will offer prompts or exercises.

The event is also a book launch for 56 Days of August, the anthology of the 2016 August Poetry Postcard Fest.

ALSO, we are doing a free POSTCARD EXCHANGE. Bring unused postcards (commercial or homemade) and take a new card home for every one you bring.

The entire event is free (except for book sales, which are encouraged) and should be a lot of fun. Please join us and bring your art/poetry pals!

found poem: scratching

found poem: the world

found poem: cement

found poem: freedom

Mother’s Day

jik to DAK undatedHacked from an envelope and illustrated, figure and ground, with colored pencils of many hues, this is probably a picture of my mother. Though without words (except for my name on the reverse side signed with a backwards J), her red hair is a giveaway.
And the dress? Well, what can be said about the dress, except that Dorothy would have worn it if it existed. However old I was when I drew it, and however conventionally she put herself together on the outside, I already understood that within her there was a zany being aching for expression.
Happy Mother’s Day.

found poem: hiding

found poem: precise

a Sunday in spring

jik - Easter ValentineAt age 6, things didn’t get much better than hearts and bunnies. A girl could be forgiven if the excesses of Valentine’s Day overtook Easter. All these decades later, I can’t account for the red cross, but the bunny has everything a bunny needs on a spring Sunday — a fat, chocolatey body, baskets over each arm, exceedingly long whiskers, a pink blush inside each ear and love radiating in all directions. Happy Easter.

pain

found poem: I FOUND

found poem: the garden

found poem: word

found poem: I was

December 8

jik to LRK birthday insidejik to LRK birthdayMy father’s birthday and a card holds up the faded mirror of my young self. I don’t know how old I was when I made this card, but I was already coloring inside the lines. The heart and the figure of my father are carefully outlined in pencil, and there’s a pencil line to indicate the floor. I loved coloring, and had plenty of crayons and paper, but wasn’t allowed to have coloring books; I had to make my own designs. (The lesson must have stuck; I have no desire for any of the scores of “adult” coloring books currently on the store shelves, just astonishment at the size of the sudden trend.)

With its little brackets, the table is easy to recognize: it’s the card table in my mother’s studio, the one I had occasion to study most often, as I stood in the doorway, hoping she’d show some interest in me, but mostly just annoying her.

Perhaps the big hovering pink thing is a practice cake, where I was working out the concept of roundness. Anyway, the important parts are there: my father, the cake, and love. Happy Birthday, Papa.

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