Absinthe and the Muse

Absinthe is an alcoholic drink that gained a reputation for being a drink for poets and artists. Absinthe rose to popularity in late‑19th‑century France, especially in the cafés of Montmartre and the Latin Quarter — the same places where poets, painters, and musicians gathered. 

Some of the most famous absinthe‑drinking poets were Charles Baudelaire, Paul Verlaine, Arthur Rimbaud, and later Ernest Hemingway and James Joyce. Absinthe became associated with poets because it was cheap, strong, ritualistic, and mythologized as a way to summon "the Muse." 

That Muse was la fée verte, the Green Fairy, a muse who whispered inspiration to drinkers. Absinthe was high-proof and relatively cheap, and it became the drink of choice for the "Green Hour" (L'Heure Verte), a daily ritual in cafes.  

There was a ritual connected to absinthe that seemed almost alchemical and added to the mystery and myth. You would drip iced water over a sugar cube perched on a slotted spoon over the absinthe-filled glass. This turned the green drink a cloudy white. This also lowered the alcholic hit and bitterness but brought forward floral notes. This theatricality made it feel more like a potion than a beverage. Artists embraced the idea that it opened the mind to visions, even though its supposed hallucinogenic effects were much exaggerated. 

Charles Baudelaire is one of the earliest literary figures linked to absinthe. Although he didn’t write poems about absinthe directly, his fascination with altered states, decadence, and artificial paradises made the drink a natural part of his mythos. His prose work Les Paradis Artificiels explores intoxication and creativity.

In "Le Poison" (The Poison) by Baudelaire from his Les Fleurs du mal (The Flowers of Evil), he compares the mind-altering effects of wine and opium before introducing a third intoxicating power. While he does not say the word "absinthe" explicitly, it is widely accepted by literary scholars that the third verse is an ode to it, playing on its signature color and its nickname as a liquid lake of dreams.

All this is nothing to the poison that spills
From your eyes, from your green eyes
Lakes where my soul trembles and is turned upside down...

Paul Verlaine was a heavy absinthe drinker whose turbulent life — including his relationship with Rimbaud — became part of the Green Fairy legend. Absinthe appears in his letters and memoirs, and its haze fits the languor and melancholy of his Symbolist style.

Arthur Rimbaud drank absinthe with Verlaine during their infamous Paris and London years. His visionary, hallucinatory poetic style helped cement the idea that absinthe unlocked new modes of perception.

In the prose poem "Absinthia Taetra" by Ernest Dowson, a central figure in the English Decadent movement, he captures the aesthetic, sensory experience of preparing the drink.

Green changed to white, emerald to opal; nothing was changed. The man let the water trickle gently into his glass, and as the green clouded, a mist fell from his mind.

Ernest Hemingway is one of the 20th‑century devotees who helped revive absinthe’s mystique. He wrote about it in For Whom the Bell Tolls and drank it in Paris and Spain. His “Death in the Afternoon” cocktail was absinthe mixed with champagne.

James Joyce also drank absinthe in Paris during his early years. While not central to his writing or the mythology, it was part of the bohemian café culture that shaped Modernism.  

Read further about the science and mythology of absinthe

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Radical Revision

I wrote recently elsewhere about listening to an old "News From Lake Wobegon" segment from Prairie Home Companion. It was a radio program and then a podcast that I followed for a number of years until the host, Garrison Keillor, left the program. I still follow his The Writers Almanac daily even though that is in "reruns" now. The daily poem is from years ago, so most of them seem new even if I did read and listened to them before.

But what also interested me was his mention of how he composed these monologues.

I like Keillor's writing method for these News segments.

I always wrote the monologue on Friday evening, four or five pages, and looked at it Saturday morning, and then not again. I never read it. I never memorized it. I felt that I’d naturally remember the memorable parts.

I took a weeklong workshop with a very well-known poet who gave us a writing prompt one day to work on that evening. "Write the first draft with pen and paper only and make no revisions. Bring the paper to class tomorrow."

We did our assignments and he collected them at the start of the session. Then he, quite dramatically, ripped them and put them in the garbage. Shock in the class. 

"Now, write it again. Anything that you remember was probably worth remembering and what you have already forgotten should be forgotten."

We wrote the poems again. After, as we shared what we wrote, some people recalled much of their poems. Some only retained a few lines or phrases. (I was in that group.) A few people remembered only the title and a few words. That didn't make them feel very good. (Some of those people were the ones who went into the trash after class to find their original.)

I have tried this on my own a few times. Write the first draft. Read it through a few times. Destroy it. Don't use a device. That's cheating if you still have the draft. Then try to write it again. Try writing a few hours later. Wait until the next day. Give it a week. The "memorable parts" should remain. 

This is radical revision. It is a good writing exercise. 

One summer I reread a folder of poems from years past. None were great. I wrote down the titles of a few that I thought I had some potential. Then, quite dramatically, I burned the poems in our firepit. I tried writing some of the poems whose titles I had saved. The title was enough of a trigger to get me back to what had inspired the first draft. I got a few good poems from the exercise.

Do I regret losing the other poems? No. It's not that I do this all the time. In fact, I still have a bound book of poems I wrote in high school on my shelf. they are almost all dreadful. But I keep them. I've never rewritten any of them, but they are like a kind of poetic diary of that time. There are love poems, imitations, things in grand language and attempts at haiku and short forms. 

It reminds me of when John Steinbeck's dog destroyed his Of Mice and Men first draft. Steinbeck's rewrite, some from memory and some new, turned out quite well.

In 1922, Ernest Hemingway had all his writing (originals and carbons) packed in a suitcase by his wife, Hadley, for a train trip to Switzerland to meet him. She left it unattended on the train for a bit while she went to get some water. When she returned, the suitcase was gone. It has never been found. It was everything he had written at the time.

"All that remains of my complete works are three pencil drafts of a bum poem which was later scrapped, some correspondence between John McClure and me, and some journalistic carbons."

He later found two short stories back in Italy.  “Up in Michigan,” which he had buried in a drawer because Gertrude Stein had said it was unpublishable, and “My Old Man” which was out with an editor at a magazine. Two good stories. I have to wonder what was lost.

That suitcase of writing would be worth a lot of money today. Hemingway never really tried to find it. He wrote what he remembered as being good again, and the rest just disappeared forever.

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Hemingway's Birthday

Ernest Hemingway was born in Oak Park, Illinois on July 21, 1899.

Working in a newspaper office in Kansas City at the age of seventeen, Hemingway started his career as a writer. Before the United States had entered the World War I, he joined a volunteer ambulance unit in the Italian army.

During the 1920's, Hemingway became a member of the group of expatriate Americans in Paris, which he described in his first important work, The Sun Also Rises (1926). A Farewell to Arms (1929), the study of an American ambulance officer's disillusionment in the war and his role as a deserter, was equally successful. Hemingway used his experiences as a reporter during the civil war in Spain as the background for his most ambitious novel, For Whom the Bell Tolls (1940).

I have been a big fan of Hemingway's writing since I started reading "serious" books in sixth grade. I liked his straightforward prose and vocabulary. I liked the dialogue, but came to believe that it was pretty unrealistic (and easy to parody). But I was a bigger fan of the short stories (like those in Men Without Women, In Our Time, The Fifth Column, and The Collected Stories) than the novels. (Oh yeah, throw in A Moveable Feast for memoir.)

Most readers aren't aware that Hemingway wrote any poetry. He didn't write a lot of it, and it's not the best of his writing, but it is interesting to look at some on this anniversary of his birth.

Here are 2 short ones that I like:

Neo-Thomist Poem

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not
want him for long.



Chapter Heading

For we have thought the longer thoughts
And gone the shorter way.
And we have danced to devils' tunes,
Shivering home to pray;
To serve one master in the night,
Another in the day.

A copy of his poems is hard to find (only some used copies on Amazon.com) but you can turn up some with a Google search.

Happy Birthday, Papa.

6 Word Memoirs

I stumbled upon a book while I was looking for some "flash fiction" - those short, short stories. It's called Not Quite What I Was Planning: Six-Word Memoirs by Writers Famous and Obscure by Larry Smith.

There are a thousand of these little literary glimpses of humanity. The "assignment" is to capture one life in 6 words.

Some of you have probably seen the Ernest Hemingway example that may have inspired the book:

"For Sale: baby shoes, never worn."

There certainly is at least one story in that half dozen words.

Enter Larry Smith. He founded SMITH Magazine on January 6, 2006, which is National Smith Day. He was the articles editor and still contributes to Men's Journal, and had been the executive editor of Yahoo! Internet Life, senior editor at ESPN magazine, a founding editor of P.O.V. and Might magazines.

When his online storytelling magazine SMITH asked readers to submit six-word memoirs, he received funny and serious entries.

There's the bittersweet romance of "Found true love, married someone else" and just bitter regret of "After Harvard, had baby with crackhead."

Then he went to the famous of the title (Jonathan Lethem, Richard Ford, Stephen Colbert, Amy Sedaris, Sebastien Junger...)




It's not exactly a poetry writing prompt, but how about giving the assignment a try and posting your own six word memoir here as a comment?