#443 Backstory of the Poem, “Portrait in Green” From the Poetry Collection INCIDENTAL POLLEN by Ellen Austin-Li, published by Madville Publishing on May 20, 2025 and published in RUST & MOTH in the Summer Issue 2021
Rust & Moth: A Journal of Poetry & The Arts
Can you go through the step-by-step process of writing this poem from the moment the idea was first conceived in your brain until final form? “Portrait in Green” is based on an event that happened to me when I was perhaps just 20, a student nurse on my “psych rotation” at an in-patient psychiatric facility. BELOW: Ellen clapping at her nursing school graduation.
The scene recollected in this poem could be called an abiding image, as I felt compelled to write about it all these years later. (While I couldn’t find the original source for the term “abiding image,” Cathy Smith Bowers wrote The Abiding Image: Inspiration and Guidance for Beginning Writers, Readers, and Teachers of Poetry). I can still picture the moment when this woman stopped me in the hallway of the psych ward, grabbed a crayon & a piece of paper, and rapidly sketched my portrait. It made such an impression that I hung the drawing on my dorm room door that year and kept that scrap of green construction paper through every move. Even now, it’s buried in a box in one of our storage rooms. I know I’ll stumble upon it someday, but it doesn’t matter—the image is emblazoned (abides) in my mind.
I composed the first draft in September 2020, during my second semester at the Solstice Low-Residency MFA in Creative Writing Program (then at Pine Manor College, but now at Lasell University). I was creating poems for my third packet submission to my faculty mentor. We had to compose ten new poems each month and at least one critical essay, so I had to “dig deep” to create poems under pressure. It’s unsurprising that an abiding image I have held onto for so long would rise to the surface under these circumstances. BELOW: Ellen, Far Right, with her fellow Solstice Residencies.
https://www.lasell.edu/graduate-studies/academics/mfa-in-creative-writing.html
The form of this poem—a palindrome or mirror poem—chose me. From the first draft, I was writing a palindrome. I laid out the two halves on opposite pages to better visualize the form. Once I returned home, I transferred the draft onto my computer. From there, revised copies emerged.
https://medium.com/writers-blokke/how-to-write-a-mirror-poem-b76738a3921b
I compose almost every poem on paper first, then transfer it onto Google Docs. Once in Google docs, I edit and revise but make an effort to keep each version in the same file. After three to five versions, if it feels close to being “done,” I download it into Word. I’ll revise further in Word as needed. At every stage, I read the poem aloud. I often record it and play it back. For me, this step is necessary to correct awkward syntax or work on sound, diction, and rhythm. I’ve noted the changes on the three computer drafts I’ve shared.
One last note on palindromes: Pauletta Hansel introduced me to this form in one of her “Practice of Poetry” classes. (You recently featured Pauletta in this series) At the time, she was either finishing or in the process of completing her book Palindrome. Something about how this form turns in on itself allows for some interesting discoveries, but it’s a form that requires deliberation. Some poets push back on an approach that slows down the stream of consciousness (witness the pressure to free-write), as if this may hinder the subconscious, but I think we can access the subconscious by focusing intently on form. I intuitively knew that this form would allow me to convey the essence of meaning that had evoked such a powerful response in my consciousness.
https://paulettahansel.wordpress.com/
https://www.dosmadres.com/shop/palindrome-by-pauletta-hansel/
Where were you when you started to actually write the poem? And please describe the place in great detail. Like most poems I composed during this time, I drafted work during my daily visits to Spring Grove Cemetery and Arboretum in Cincinnati, OH. We were on COVID lockdown, and my daily excursions to Spring Grove kept me sane. I hauled snacks, my water bottle, books, and notebooks and set up shop in my favorite spot to write. My usual haunt was on a ridge (in front of Cornelius Hauck’s above-average monument) that overlooks acres of manicured lawns with every sort of tombstone imaginable and glorious mature trees and wooded areas. Sometimes, I’d hang out for an entire day.
Spring Grove Cemetery and Arboretum
https://www.springgrove.org/visitors-guide/
Cornelius Hauck
https://research.cincymuseum.org/library/bot/intro.htm
Typically, I wrote while inside my car, balancing a pen and notebook on my lap desk. I use a wide-ruled composition notebook for first drafts. On writing breaks, I walked for miles and thought—with the trees, the creatures residing there (wild turkeys, squirrels, birds, and red foxes), and the resident spirits to keep me company. All my friends know that I affectionately call Spring Grove “my office.”
The first “Backstory of the Poem” I contributed (in Jan. 2021) was written in the same place, during the same era. That previously featured poem, “To Recapture Faith,” appears in the same full-length collection from Madville Publishing, Incidental Pollen.
https://chrisricecooper.blogspot.com/2021/01/ellen-austin-lis-to-recapture-faith-is.html
What month and year did you start writing this poem? I found the first draft of this poem, dated September 23rd, 2020, in one of my old composition notebooks. I keep the date ranges on the front of my notebooks if I want to find such things. I knew to look in this notebook as I remembered the faculty mentor I was working with when I sent this poem, so I knew when it was written approximately. I looked back at each packet I sent to this mentor to find the correct date range and to recollect what he had said about this poem. (BELOW LEFT: Ellen Austin-Li in June of 2020)
Were there any lines in any of your rough drafts of this poem that were not in the final version? And can you share them with us? Readers can see how chiseling words and sculpting this poem’s syntax allowed the beauty of the message to emerge. The biggest changes occurred between the handwritten version and the first computer version (this is usually the case for me). From there, the meaning is clarified through the form, mainly by listening to the poem. As you can see, words are added, omitted, or changed from one version to the next. I played with verb tenses and punctuation in each version, too. After I found the first three computer versions, I found a separate version with the line “What I remember is this:” included. This unnecessary line was an easy deletion, as this piece is clearly a recalled memory and doesn’t need to be stated. Perhaps this line emerged from the struggle I was having trying to decide between past and present tense.
What do you want readers of this poem to take from this poem? The overarching compulsion for this poem—the thing that compelled me to break my silence—is the evidence of the notion that genius and insanity are closely related. That concept was what struck such a powerful chord in my memory. This woman institutionalized for “madness” was also extraordinarily brilliant. She picked up a crayon and created this accurate portrait of me in seconds. She didn’t say a word yet showed her creative genius with such power. I kept the scrap of green construction paper to never forget her and what she showed me. Everyone deserves our respect, no matter what their circumstances.
I remember hearing that “there’s a thin line between genius and insanity” when I was young, which has stayed with me. The origin for this expression is in doubt, but Aristotle wrote something like this in ancient Greece.
According to an article in Psychology Today (https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/the-hidden-habits-of-genius/202009/is-there-a-thin-line-between-genius-and-insanity)writers and artists seem most likely to exhibit this seeming paradox. Interestingly, poets (in particular) display the highest rate of mood disorders. But I digress. This expression—there is a thin line between genius and insanity—is an excellent example of the power of words to instill empathy. I remember thinking about this statement when I saw unhoused people on the street, begging for money or joining their groups at [unhoused] encampments beneath bridges. Any one of these people could be brilliant. I’m aware that mental illness often underlies the inability to work and live in society in the usual ways, so I’ve always thought to keep the “thin line…” statement in mind lest any notion of superiority enters my consciousness. “There, but by the grace of God, go I…” and such. Our safety, security, and success (however you define these) largely depend on our mental health—and good fortune.
The secondary element that entered this poem came about through the word manipulation the form itself created: the transformation of the speaker from a young nurse to an aging woman “in dirty sweats,” or now lacking the glamor that society grants only to the young (primarily women). I initially wanted to keep this poem as a palindrome because of this unexpected meaning shift. My faculty mentor wanted me to move away from the “cleverness” of the palindrome form to expand on the theme, but I internally resisted. I’m so glad I followed my instincts, as now, I can see how the age shift in the speaker proves just how powerful this experience was—the impression remained with this poet for a lifetime.
Which part of the poem was the most emotional for you to write and why? The most moving part of writing this poem was what came out while I physically recorded the details that I remembered so well. Something in writing these details led me to clearly state the connection between the moment and “the line vanishing between genius and insanity,” which subsequently changes in the next stanza of the palindrome to “between genius and insanity/ my impression in green.” This is the moment when I step into the shoes of the woman in the psych hospital, and I understand how easy it is to slide between functioning and not functioning. And as the poem proceeds, I also transform from a young woman into an aging one. Anything that reinforces humility is of value, and this is what happens with true empathy: a place of great spiritual significance to me.
