By Lynne Thompson
Behind their blinds, the neighbors are whispering. I know they’ll call the New York poetry dicks and, together, they’ll peek in my windows and be shocked by what they see. A horde of saved words lazing about everywhere—in the daybeds, in the fireplace, atop a chest of furbelows and they’ll be aghast to learn that in the freezer, the washer/dryer, even in the shower, are still more words. Foreign words. Miss Spelled words. Twelve bawdy nouns that crunch like nuts and a few verbs that stick in the teeth like fresh corn. Favorite words like jive, pestilence, and vestibule.All looking for a poem to nestle in, a place where they can have their say. Many had tried butvmany had failed. For example, squash got squeezed out, rabbit was ridiculed, and frigidity, of course, was simply too unfriendly.
Still, I saved them all. Stowed many into trunks. Gently stuffed some into creels. Hid several beneath the soft soles of slippers believing they were destined for free verses or sestinas. I’ve broken every law that demands we discard any words we are not using. So now I’m on the lam, never more than two steps ahead of a laid-off linguist who would tremble to know that loose in my pockets are whistle and luck and forgive.
Previously published in Passager, 2004
The Importance of Arts, Culture & The Creative Process
This project resonates with me as an artist because so many beginning writers are overwhelmed and insecure about how to pursue their own ambitions to put words on paper (or on the screen!) Delving into the process of more established writers arguably minimizes their anxiety and reveals that inspiration can—and often does—arise in unexpected and ordinary ways. This release of anxiety about the process leaves space for the would-be writer to explore his/her environment and to transfer that “unfettered seeing” into a work of art.
What was the inspiration for your creative work?
The inspiration for Keepsakes kicked in during a workshop during which a participant said she had deleted a number of words from the poem she was drafting. I immediately began to feel sympathy for the deleted words and thought about the numerous lists I keep on and around my writing desk. Thinking of the importance of language led me to draft my own poem that insists on preserving there sanctity of words—the one thing that separates humans from other living species.
Tell us something about the natural world that you love and don’t wish to lose. What are your thoughts on the kind of world we are leaving for the next generation?
If you’ve ever had the opportunity—as I have—to drive north from Los Angeles to Highway One on the California coast and come upon the California redwoods and sequoia trees beginning in Big Sur and continuing to Eureka, you will know the awe the journey inspires. Traveling north, you’ll have the blue Pacific Ocean to your west and the towering redwoods to the east as well as ahead of you. Whether or not you practice a particular religion, you will feel that you are entering a sacred cathedral. The beauty of the experience cannot be understated. The scent of the sequoia sempervirens is hypnotic. In recent years, California, where you can find these magnificent trees, some having lived for more than 2000 years, has been overwhelmed by significant fires. Although I was surprised to learn that redwoods and giant sequoias are relatively fire-resistant, I was agonized to learn “forests [are] vulnerable and strained…by climate change, decades of commercial logging, and short-sighted forest management practices”. [Save the Redwoods League].
I can’t imagine California without these amazing natural monuments. Simply put, humans—who are responsible, in part, for the threat to them—must begin to think about and plan for ways to conserve them so that these natural wonders continue to inspire the next generation and the generations after them. The artists—literary and otherwise—are just one segment of society that must wok to ensure this future.
