the rhymes of the flowers

 

Tiger, Corita Kent, 1965, Serigraph, 23"h x 35"w

Dear Violets Are Blue,

Yesterday, I skated past you, on the walk, over and over.  Ka-tunk, ka-tunk, when the wheels passed over the seams in the concrete.  Each time I could catch that faint scent; and of course, I saw you, too; just a few of you, maybe a dozen blooms?  But the scent see, that is maybe the thing.  Like night, like water, but faintly sweet, medicinal.   Like the smell of lightning.  Yes, and the color, well, it is one of the special purples of flowers- the tiniest hairs making a dense reflective nap like velvet. 

A project that would be fine is to collect these purples when I see them.  To match each one with a bit of paint on a square of paper; yes that would be a fine project.  A kind of world tour of botanical violet hues.

Watermelon, Corita Kent, 1965, Serigraph, 18"h x 24"w

Known as The Nose.

Dear Bottles on the Dresser Bureau,

I will hate myself in the morning for suggesting a place for you to fritter more time away, and spend your hard earned duckets, but here I go again anyway, sending you places.  Scroll down on this page a little ways, and play the delightful little clip of the Nose in action.

Please, though, to spare my karma & my conscience, set a kitchen timer for 10 minutes, and promise me you'll only buy the samples, ok?  If little Jimmy has to go without shoes because I sent you to the perfume counter, I won't be able to live with myself!