Goddess of Paper

Well I'm not sure whether Pantone would agree that the bird is purely 108. That's beside the point.

What is the point? Much like a egg yolk. Unboundless joy. The mouth tasting a perfect soft-boiled egg.

Pure magic & joy as paper accepts one word, then the next. Perhaps, a haiku will take flight.

And who cares there's not much sun today. Rain is glorious. Doesn't paper love the rain of ink?

Thanks, Anika O. for my gift.

Color

Color takes light & eyes & imagination.
Imagination, the great namer.

And would you believe that my home state of New Jersey plays a key role in this color-naming.  So let's name the place:  Carlstadt, NJ.  Founding in the early '60s, Pantone created a color-standard language for fashion, cosmetic and medical communities.  Pantone grew into an color-standards empire also servicing design, ad agencies and the printing communities.  Institutes, too.  To come full circle (geographically-speaking), Chronicle Books, San Francisco, published the box-set "Pantone:  100 Postcards." A source-book for 2016 poetrybites.   Thanks, Pantone.  Thanks, Chronicle Books.

By the way, who says there's isn't inspiration in a box?

So to begin the year, here's color and "color-apped".  Locally-sourced:  Stern Grove.

So above, so below.  

The "real" Stern Grove tree above; below the image "apped" with Circular.  Pehaps, an eye into water?  

Let's return to imagination for a second.  This I know to be true -- food & poetry are inspired by the imagination's naming of color.

Neither light nor dark

The hand was made to hold
neither light nor dark.
Times does that.

And at this time
may there be a few good
persimmons left in the market
and increasing murmurs
of peace.

Socks

and in her sixth decade she learned to fold socks

P.S.  She never learned to make a proper white sauce.  She continues to love Shakespeare's sonnets.

As is

Albany, Bulb

and yet

can such

linguistic

tragedy

be avoided?

can

too much

pepper

be added?

is 

the solution

salt

&

Belonging

here 

there is

no
pen
no paper
no
plate
no fork
no
seasonal
fruit
only
a wild
imagining