Save the Date: The Nikki

Here's The Nikki, a new printable Save the Date from my Etsy shop. These are two slightly different variations.

If you're in Nashville and are in the market for a photographer, check out my friend Cody. She's great!

Birth Announcement: The TH

Introducing The TH, a classy printable birth announcement, which you can find on my Etsy shop heyjessica.

Photo compliments of Krystal Mann, Nashville, TN. Cuddly baby is my nephew.

you silly moon

My fiance has been working with a band here in LA called You Silly Moon. While they were recording, I was doodling.

Hopefully I can share their music soon, too! I've had one of their songs in my head for weeks. :)

ETSY, HELLO!

So I finally loaded ONE ITEM on Etsy. I've been talking about it since 2009, and it's finally happened.

The shop is HeyJessica.

Please check it out! More to come very soon.

Also, what types of things would you like to see there? I'm open to ideas and suggestions!

Thanks :)

jb

for my friend J-Les

My good friend Joey Leslie of Leslie Honest checked out my postcard poetry through August 2010. He is a constant source of creativity -- one of those people that has an idea and actually ACTS on it. I need those people in my life to keep me from just blabbing on about what I want to do. I need those people to hold me accountable. And that's what Joey is to me. A friend who tells the truth. A friend who combats laziness with his own inner drive. One who propels his own destiny.

He is a master of wit and self-awareness. Please check out his crazy honest writing! [Do it! Do it!]

And now, here's the postcard poem I popped in the mail for J-Les:

 

Magic at the Equator:

What makes old folks flock south

like birds? Does time slow down

at the belly of the earth?

Near the equator, the thick

air molecules create a new

state, somewhere between 

liquid and gas. Bodies wade

through the humidity, weigh

less (as if floating in the

shallow end). Time slows

down and they are younger,

further away from the earth's

greedy axis. Bones are hollowed

and wrinkled bodies take flight. /

back on the horse

I wanted to tell you, internet, that I'm getting back on the horse. The creative horse.

Please look for new postcard poems and other goodies soon.

It's 2011. It's February. I'm leveling up. I may even list some things on Etsy soon. And now that I've told the internet, I may just hold myself accountable...

:)

because of Twitter...

So I'm tweeting over at heyjessicabates, and because of that wonderful social networking tool, fellow writer Evelyn (who tweets, too) saw some of my postcard poems and commented on them. I asked for her address in a DM through Twitter, and now I'm sending her a brand-spankin' new postcard poem especially for her.


Evelyn keeps a great blog and is involved in many poem-a-day challenges. Check her out!


[Poets, tweet with the hashtag #poettalk everyday or #poettues on Tuesdays!]

I'll post Evelyn's postcard when I'm sure she's already received it. :)

Postcard Poetry: Day 24

Translation: 

Establishing Boundaries

The Saad sisters liked to

wander too far from home.

Their mother grabbed

a piece of pink sidewalk

chalk and drew a wide circle,

which encompassed the whole

block. She told them that

if they left the circle

without her, things would

fall apart. Buildings would

crumble into the sea. This,

she said, is the edge of

the universe. /

_____

I used the Saad sisters, very dear family friends, as inspiration! :)

Postcard Poetry: Day 23

Translation:

Today don't let others

choose. Stop being nice. Tell

me what you want on your

pizza; tombstone. What movie

will you watch? Will you cry

out in pain and passion?

Step out from behind the

masses, choose a door that

excites your insides. Go forth

proudly and joyfully alone. /

_____

sketch

I bought a new sketchbook. Yay! This is the first sketch.

Postcard Poetry: Day 22

I'm back on the wagon. Many apologies for not keeping up with the challenge, but I'm going to finish it now! Yay!

Translation:
_____

Here we are, squirrel, face
to face, separated only by
the glass of my window.
Squirrel, girl/girl, squirrel:
our titles even mimic
each other. We aren't so
different, you and I. Your
small hands swaddling food,
my apple in hand, staring
back. It's not so hard, he tells
me. Just climb, dig, grip,
eat, and run. That's life. /

delay

World, if anyone's looking for postcard poems, they are on the way. I've had some things going on, but poetry month participants, I apologize for the delay. Better late than never, no?

coming soooooooon

Postcard Poetry: Day 21

Translation:

_____

With Vodka

This morning I wanted to add

vodka to my cereal, but 

didn't. An hour later, 

helping customers find plate

settings for twelve, I wished

I had drank the vodka.

One woman who couldn't find

her coupon (but was in a

"giant rush") said I looked

calm in the face of adversity.

I calmly told her to go to

hell, and walked right out.

That didn't happen, but it

could have, with vodka. /

_____

jb

Postcard Poetry: Day 20

Gotten a tad behind. But I'm trucking on. Enjoy!

Translation:
_____

Lunch Love

I never thought I'd enjoy
packing lunches. While
preparing your sandwich I
think of you at work, pausing
one reverent moment to chew,
smiling at the hot sauce
surprise. I slice pineapple,
wash grapes, sprinkle nuts
and craisins over fresh
lettuce. I love feeding you,
fuel for your body from
these two hands. /
_____

jb

Postcard Poetry: Day 19

Translation:
_____

Snapshot.

A man & wife with a baby
in tow asked me to take
their picture on the sidewalk.
I framed them perfectly
in the camera's eye, magenta
flowers shining pink/purple
light on their faces. "One
more?" they say, so I turn
the camera to take a vertical
shot. They say "ooh." I tell
them I love perspective, squat
down to capture their lovely
shadows lengthening. /
_____

jb

Postcard Poetry: Day 18

Translation:
_____

Watercolor, like me

Watercolor is lovely because
it's imperfect. A brush-full
of crimson paint bleeds on
wet paper, seeps to bended
corners, the art of gravity.
You will not last forever,
watercolor. Rain makes your
colors cry, sun exposure
fades your once-vibrant hues.
Your paper will be eaten with
tears and holes. You will join me,
my body, in the dirt. The
beauty is that together we lived. /
_____

jb

Postcard Poetry: Day 17

Translation:
_____

On today's walk I see

A girl in a Dodgers hat
lighting up a cigarette
while riding a bike.
Two sisters hold hands
while watching a neighbor
struggle up her front
steps. Squirrel crossing the
road looks like a bouncing
brown ribbon dancer. My
lunchtime beer served in a
tall wine glass, "Brown
Sugar" on the jukebox. /
_____

jb

-- Project is more than halfway over. Time is flying, y'all.

Postcard Poetry: Day 16

Translation:
_____

Full

I cannot stop collecting jars.
An emptied salsa jar holds
my unworn necklaces.
I bought tequila in a cobalt
bottle, drank it quickly and
gave it a home in my
kitchen window. An empty
relish jar now holds string,
wine corks, mismatched
buttons. I find things empty
and I fill them up. Bamboo
growing in an old peanut can. /
_____

jb

Postcard Poetry: Day 15

Translation:

_____

Once when I was drunk at

a family court charity

event, a judge asked me

my favorite animal. I say

tiger. What is my second fav-

orite? Monkey. He tells me

I am the first animal, my

ideal lover the second. 

One Cuba Libre later he taps

me on the shoulder, reveals

a banana. No thank you,

I say, fangs glinting. Hiss.

Too much potassium, not

enough blood. /

_____

jb

Postcard Poetry: Day 14

Okay, I'm behind/ahead. I was ahead, and now I'm behind my ahead, so I'm basically on track. I'm posting one this morning (that I wrote and mailed yesterday), and I will do my best to post another one today. I will definitely write and send one, but I'm just getting behind on the actual posting it to you. (Therefore, one could argue that I'm not behind at all!) So, here's Day 14.

Translation:
_____

Turmeric, Magic

You are brown/orange
and hypnotic. I want
to sprinkle you into
soup and drip you down
my throat. I want to
cake you over my skin
like clay while I glow
golden under a blood-
red gown. Stain
my smooth arms & legs,
forehead, wide open palms.
_____

jb