Mining the Jazz from a Five-Petal Flower

This week I had the pleasure, with the rest of my intrepid creative writing class, to take part in an Ecopoetry guest lecture and reading by Washington State University Professor of English and Director of Creative Writing, Linda Russo. Professor Russo led us down a path through a literary garden she has recently started tending with a few poems from a new project of hers. She helped concentrate our minds on a particular plant fond to her recent poetic endeavors, Hyperium Perforatum or Saint John's Wort. Professor Russo demonstrated through the Zoom connection from the Pulman campus a picture showing holes, or perforations, that can be seen in the leaves of the Saint John's Wort when held to the light. She said it reminded her of the constellations in the night sky and then showed us a poem where she made the words appear on the page like the perforations in the leaf, that could be read in a number of different ways skewing the meaning for each diviner. Her use of photography within the text, around the text, supporting the text is a new concept she is attempting to harness that really spoke to me since I have the same aspirations.

I believe the use of images with poetry, especially ecopoetry and Professor Russo's in particular, can only enhance the imagery contained therein. Some may say that it dampens or hinders the imagination, but I say to that: Does not a fire burn better with dry wood versus wet? Does (most) music not sound better when it is in tune? Does one not run better on gravel with hard-soled shoes? The artist’s chosen images associated with their literary works of art only heighten the sensory palate of the senses. They offer a tool to add to a fully experience for the reader to use or not use at their whim.

We ended the class with a trip to the WSU-Vancouver Garden to wax poetic (in a good way) about our own favorite flower. The fledgling garden is in its infancy with nothing more than a few sprigs of kale and sweet cabbage sprouting stocks through the grass encroached rows of the garden plots. I wrote of the Star Jasmine that filled the sweet air of my younger years below the Mason-Dixon line and of the row of full bustling bushes of jasmine greeting me every morning that I walked from my front door to the garage on my way to the Navy base for work during a short stint in Camarillo, California. The garden seemed to act as a metaphor to our green, if you will, endeavors. I, too, added a picture (from creative commons) to enhance the senses of the imagination, but only as a place holder until I can add a photo of my own from GhostNote Photography.

I’ve enclosed the rough draft of the musing below:

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I want to thank Professor Julian Ankney, Director of Native American Programs for setting up these wonderful writer’s visits in which our class has been partaking, as well as Professor Linda Russo for taking the time to share her craft. This semester has been an enriching experience filled with writing fuel to grow my ever-evolving literary omnibook.