Lisa Panepinto : part five

What do you feel poetry can accomplish that other forms can’t?

As Roque Dalton said, “poetry, like bread, is for everyone.” Poetry is an art that is open to most anyone who has something to say, a pen, and something to write on, or even just their body/spirit and a good memory—for those rooted in oral traditions like the many Indigenous cultures who pass on poems orally. I’ve taught poetry workshops to groups that didn’t consider themselves poets such as youth in foster care; it’s beautiful to see profound and musical verses emerge quickly out of people given a little inspiration, supportive community, and fifteen minutes of free writing. If they stick with writing poetry, the therapeutic value of documenting feelings and images can be very rewarding. I’ve found it’s best to write first for myself then think about sharing it with the world later, if at all. William Burroughs said, “all words heal”—art, music, and literature help sustain the human spirit, and poetry is a condensed, accessible form of creativity that can give meaning and medicine to diverse groups of people regardless of language or location. Words, stories, and poems can feed us just as much as bread.  

Lisa Panepinto : part four

Why is poetry important?

I’ve been lucky to hear poet Martín Espada read in person twice. The first time I was in Freeport and he said to a group of us, “Of course poetry matters! The fascists who imprison and kill poets for protesting oppression realize the power of the written word.” And indeed, just recently several Burmese poets were jailed and killed for opposing a military coup in Burma. 

Artist persecution happens in the US as well. Buffy Sainte-Marie was blacklisted in the 60s when the LBJ administration forbade American radio stations from playing her music—even though she was doing nothing criminal. She was probably targeted just for being an Indigenous woman with lyrics that promote peace and tell the truth about American Indian experiences. I’m deeply inspired by the courage of such people who use creativity to fight for liberation. I recently watched an Alice Walker talk on her website. She brilliantly noted how our minds are constantly under attack by the colonizer, so we must actively protect our minds; she suggested meditation as one method of protection. Walker reminded me that poetry can be another way to protect our minds—the page can become a place of sovereignty, light, exaltation, sanctuary, and justice. 

Lisa Panepinto : part three

What poets changed the way you thought about writing?

Walt Whitman’s ‘Song of Myself’ imparted a love of being alive, sense of ecstatic prayer, self-love, and equanimity, “the soul is not more than the body,” early on. Then Joy Harjo, who I first heard through a recorded version of her poem, “She had some horses.” The rhythm and refrains paired with intuitive images and voice of witness was mesmerizing; her style felt similar to some of my favorite Kim Gordon songs or Allen Ginsberg’s spoken word. Annie Dillard’s Pilgrim at Tinker Creek has also been important to me for its poetic acknowledgement of the divine in nature and animals. Trying to listen more to mountains, forests, streams, and friends has impacted my thinking as well—I gain so much from my teachers and kin and hope I can use poetry and art as a gift back to them in some way. Also, I was previously familiar with Federico García Lorca’s plays, but am just now reading his Collected Poems and finding the timeless symbols, visionary beauty, and universal truths in his poems mind blowing. He’s reminding me it’s alright to have recurring themes. For example, Lorca refers to poplar trees in dozens of poems, but it never seems redundant. It feels realistic and celebratory. 

Lisa Panepinto : part two

How important is music to your poetry?

Music is a source of sustenance to me in how it’s energizing, comforting, and euphoric. I like to keep up with new releases from my favorite artists and continually learn about older undiscovered albums, and I play guitar myself. I feel my best poems have a cadence that brings momentum and meditative breath. I was a college DJ and indie rock lyrics have definitely influenced my writing and been a model of creativity more concerned with being true than being popular. My book where i come from the fish have souls has a poem called “in allegheny national forest” about walking past oil drilling and logging roads through a flooded stream made by beavers to the purity of a place “where cars don’t go.” Arcade Fire sings about a similar place on ‘Neon Bible,’ and that song was in my head as I was writing about that scene. Lately I find myself drawn mostly to folk, blues, and soul music; some of my favorites include: Elizabeth Cotten, Fruit Bats, Greg Brown, D’Angelo, Jeremy Dutcher, Rhiannon Giddens, Valerie June, Los Lobos, JS Ondara, Gregory Porter, Ranky Tanky, Alice Smith, Mavis Staples, Lucinda Williams, and the Wood Brothers. 

Lisa Panepinto : part one

Lisa Panepinto is the author of where i come from the fish have souls (Spuyten Duyvil) and on this borrowed bike (Three Rooms Press). She lives near Bangor where she makes arts and crafts, gardens, and works as a freelancer.

What are you working on? 

I’m working on some odes to people who have been meaningful to me, like my adopted grandmothers, writer heroes, and celestial bodies. The sage Vasistha is said to reside among the seven stars of the Big Dipper, which reassures me. Most my poems start as journal entries: stories from life, poetic phrases I hear other’s say, ruminations on the state of the world. 

I’ve also been combining text with visual art using collage and paintings. Last week I took some words from my poem “living prayer” and painted them on tile along with some evergreens. Textile and sculpture artist Bonny Gorsuch referred me to the artwork of Corita Kent—and I admire how Corita uses calligraphy as art in a way I’d never seen before. She explores spirituality, literature, and issues of fighting for equality through combining text with images.