chocolate is a verb

colors, flavors, whims and other growing things

Tag Archives: August

found poem: rainage

found poem: because

Happy Birthday, Pat

PatThere is history between us. There are stories and photographs tracking the years. There is the seldom-shared geography of our lives that seems to make no difference. There is the bracelet I wear that used to be yours.
But most profoundly, there is empathy and witnessing: the presence — emotional, spiritual, physical — at the long river’s-edge of our growth.
And there is love.
Happy Birthday.

August 27*

scarlet sweet peas

late summer
such a tease
her rain-dappled
sun-sparkled
green skirts
breeze blown
round scarlet
sweet-pea
petticoats

*August is Poetry Postcard month, which means, for me, that each day starts with a postcard-length poem that is written on an actual postcard and mailed to one of the 31 people on the August Poetry Postcard list. In return, the mailbox yields up a month’s worth of poems and postcards. By the end of August, I’ve written 31 first drafts. This is today’s, which will be mailed to a poet at a school in South Korea.
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photo

what I forget to do…

hinokiThis morning I am surprised to discover that in the throes of many other distractions and temptations and satisfactions I have set aside the morning practice of light, this noticing and noting.

This is a loss. In this process of speaking to myself I put my toes into the day’s first icy water of words.

These views from my window aren’t new; this is a round, a chorus, an annual refrain of light: bright pewter, green, the still-furled knots of hibiscus-like rose-of-sharon peeking pink from behind the bulging spruce, squirrels and jays squalling in the trees, the still-lemony-green tracings of new growth on the hinoki.

The hidden sun teases out a glint of spider silk just before I step through it, into the frigid sea.

August…

this evening in Seattle…

Queen Anne Books reading and party for Drash
Please join us on Wednesday, August 22, 2012, at 6:30pm at Queen Anne Books, 1811 Queen Anne Ave North, for a reading and party with contributors to Drash Literary Review. Readers: Lyssa Tall Anolik, Irene Bloom, J.I. Kleinberg, Erika Michael, Hannah Nguyen, Nancy Penrose, Martin Perlman and Alison Carb Sussman. See you there!
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Queen Anne Books photo by Chris Blakeley
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The Journal of Compressed Creative Arts has now posted the second of six wordages by J.I. Kleinberg.

this evening in Seattle…

August morning…

webThese hot mornings, the house holds its breath. I draw open the doors to invite any cooling. Gulls cry; a squirrel barks and something hisses back. The plums await, fallen and hanging. So many plums. Apples grow heavy.

The sky pale with sun not yet risen holds the ache of the already-shortened days.

Knowing the future, harbingers of autumn, spiders knit furiously.