Inspiration Point

^{Pacific Palisades}

We’d stare at horses at Will Rogers Park, then hike
the Loop Trail to Inspiration Point, &
I’d lag back 
to be a kid. Alone. & under that aloofness—hid
vengeance. A rusty burr or two 
in my left sneaker. & under that—anxiety. The salt 
dripping through chaparral 
brows, into my brown lashes. &
under that—rage. A perfectly purple 
shell some kid favored & lost.
& under that—hope. The pounded 
ground. & under that—a vast
clearing on the cosmos, also called Inspiration
Point. A gorgeous, inner hilltop

with a curious figure 
taking in the Pacific view. 
Breathing chicory & chamise. Naming 
every wind-boarder near Catalina 
Island. That high-noon, far-sighted figure—seemed
a bit burnt, but warm. A bit divine. 
But—sometimes—I didn’t find that figure 
wow-ing at a thing 
no one had ever seen—at a new bird 
better than a phoenix. (There’s something better than 
a phoenix!) Sometimes, my hand 
stretched towards some nether new
creation & I was the figure 
who named it.

Copyright © 2022 by Jennifer Jean. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on January 26, 2022, by the Academy of American Poets.

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“When I was a kid, my imagination saved me. That I could be a creator—saved me. This poem explores this creative impulse. In the first half of this double-sonnet, the speaker journeys through their own emotional and psychic layers, which are each paired with a concrete detail from the initial setting of the poem. In the second half, the speaker arrives at a metaphysical ‘Inspiration Point’ where a ‘curious’ someone observes and engages mysteries as they manifest. I think it’s fun and funny and true that the speaker gets to sometimes be that divine conjurer—when writing poetry, that’s who I am!”
—Jennifer Jean