Today we’d like to introduce you to Forest Lake
Hi forest, so excited to have you on the platform. So before we get into questions about your work-life, maybe you can bring our readers up to speed on your story and how you got to where you are today?
Hello, my name is Forest Lake but I once went by the name I was given, Cynthia. As a kid, I read in a book that the name Cynthia meant ‘goddess of the moon.’ My heart fluttered with that idea, omg. I would need a wardrobe change, good thing we were already at Target! Not an advertisement. We formed identities at major chain stores like that but then felt ill-equipped to shuffle it up and live differently when society required too much from us emotionally and many more ways than that? Hmm… I clutched my newfound identity-definition book in my hands. Yes, so strange! Wait til the girls hear this. Baby names! I was quite serious about finding myself in 5th grade; the tone you may hear is truly in. my. nature. I have always loved the moon but to live my truth, to be a goddess of the moon was too much pressure. In this economy? No way, so, I switched some things up and made some transitions, which means across and some people got upset. A cow jumped over the moon and it was a whole fiasco.
I believe that my personal story is best illustrated by the most recent poem I wrote. So, that is what I would like to share for my Hidden Gem interview. Thank you. Before I share the poem, I’d tell you to visit my website at the domain https://sites.google.com/view/forestlakecody Do you see my PayPal? I write poetry here in the city, do you think it pays? Will you? Send me some money, please. However much you think is right. I am happy to share my gifts but don’t push it, capisce?
My privacy and publicity are important to me. I share this poem without drawing it into the writing contests that it deserves to be in because my gifts are mine to give. Still, my audience gazes into my house so, please, send me a gift. Gas, grass, or something else if you know what I mean, my friend. But mostly the first two and by grass I mean wild your lawn first. Another thing, this world and modern society are not romantic on their own. Poverty and oppression are not storybook tales. Genocide is not a question of morals. Now, before the poem we hold an intermission. Look it up, it’s gold from the Coalition to Dismantle the Doctrine of Discovery. I know how much you like gold.
“We are thankful for this land, our body” – Bizzy Feekes (artist, seminary student, and a writer who came from the Winnebago Nation and the Ho-Chunk People – the People of the Big Voice)
By the way, did you know that Mantis shrimp have 12 to 16 visual pigments compared to our three? That must be some sort of sight. We all have the capacity to be Mantis shrimp by tuning into our hearts. It turns out that our hearts are connected to our heads, our bodies and stuff! Okay, here goes, but please take your time and read it slowly. Breathe. Read it again if you want. If you don’t understand, throw your hands in the air and be done with me, that’s your choice. Now, without further ado, this poem is called, ‘Under a scorpio moon & la di da di da’ and my name is Forest Lake.
Under a scorpio moon & la di da di da
In the sun of a rising Grand Boulevard spill a
couple of walking cutie pies to say the least,
a cardinal & a crab :), a couple of dogs,
we were femme friends which is to say we
weren’t very friendly sometimes :(, sad as hell
but we knew how to dress to the nines in colorful
colors, queer, damn beautiful, all that type of stuff
We were smart & sexy for one another if you must
observe that way, know I faithfully kissed
the ground under Saturn by direction of Venus, who
kissed the ground under Mars, who well…
looked damn good in those heels
I’ll tell you now, the Earth tasted not as good
sometimes because to dance isn’t all we can
do, for example, have you heard us sing? or leave
a million curls behind to climb
From the looks of you, I might leave a couple behind
too because I make pity, too, so when the Mad Woman
gives me a ring as I’ve heard she’d
like to do, watch me try it on,
it’s not a threat:
Am I smiling?
Is it honest, I’m not married but so many moons
expect a baby:
Mini &
furiously delivered!
Gosh, I’d sure like to try it but it sucks watching you
live your life as a stick in the mud when you’re a stick
in the air, a wand, a blanket! Me?
I’m bi! I swear but sweet Queen of
Swords here in Saint Louis knighted
me, nothing too bad just here & there real
deep :/ it was misery
& colorful colors,
it was all of that stuff, so yes,
it’s taking as long as
a piece of string but:
I forgive you, zodiac! Call me!
All stubborn ox or something about
not taking it back because where I am,
we’re exiting more than strong
which is to say, well…
God made me nostalgic,
selfish & my sweet animals! But not
once in our state’s circus
have we made
a sunrise
that wasn’t red which is to say:
The munitions are literally
made here.
We have never seen the value
in religion, gosh, I sure tried it,
for example there was the taste of some
tongue & learning some stuff
Tried to at least,
give off a sweet air of whispers & wishes but I couldn’t
stop consuming!
What a beast! I also ate
some sheep
& fell in a well… but there you were,
stillwater underneath, not needing
to be drunk & I certainly don’t
need all that in my system but
What about the la di da di da?
Right, waving around my breasts & ass, small
& big again, rapping at the door
after weeks of that asking:
How could you bring me
here after I showed you my thirst?
You never saw yourself dance or sing into my
eyes but here we are in je ne sais quoi & deja
vu & déjà fait worse than anyone – I swear
it’s an affliction but you’re no doctor, still,
I’ll tell you what when there is
just us & One Old Queen left
Anyway, back to my four signs, I dropped 8 big
old eyes to that many microscopes but I still
quite favor that one telescope of mine,
mutable & inconvenient at best, Pisces at last
when under a blue moon my fish
tell me they are appalled, asking:
For what, Pisces!
For la di da di da?
For people who cheat &
teach me how to live with it?
Can you talk to us a bit about the challenges and lessons you’ve learned along the way. Looking back would you say it’s been easy or smooth in retrospect?
Oh boy, sometimes the road is smooth as silk but that tends to be when I’m writing & editing & writing & editing… There has been so much grief on my road. Not every cloud has a silver lining. Sometimes what is gone is truly lost. I have failed so many times but I’m still alive. I’d like to start keeping that in perspective. Here is another poem about a time I was searching for a silver lining and was able to find it just by letting go of my desire to force a connection. This poem first appeared in The Main Street Rag Volume 28 Number 4 Fall 2023.
Red line
it starts with a cotton candy sky, of course, while I
sit at the station in visible summer heat looking east
sweating calves don’t bother–it’s rush hour on Friday, back
facing the sunset, a diaphanous linen that shawls us all
sharing a cold metal bench doesn’t cause any grief
in the middle is California orange, chartreuse, baby
pink
everyone looking tired after the workweek
a pacing soul in headphones races into the shot
before the train arrives and the scene breaks
in the end it’s just me
boarding the train with these thoughts
Thanks for sharing that. So, maybe next you can tell us a bit more about your work?
I think so far a lot of what I’m known for is causing an unneeded stir. What a shame. I’m currently focused on staying alive. I’m focused on kindling my imagination by releasing my poems into the wild, releasing my voice into the music world, and releasing myself from the shame and blame of having made so many mistakes. Instead of forgetting the past and moving on, I’m working on learning from all that I’ve grown from. I have another poem to share. It’s really interesting for me to reread this poem because I’m just in a different place. My heart and head can’t handle the pace I used to run with in my everyday life. But I thought I had to run myself ragged. I thought I had no other choice. Rest is required. Rest is literally required. This poem is about how I used to rest. It was originally published under the special selection of trans and non-binary voices for Jelly Bucket, an imprint from the Bluegrass Writers Studio.
My body has names
My body has names like landmarks. Year round, I am a tourist. My body has a tourist but it’s never on vacation. I direct people underneath me, my body is a hideaway. We appear helpful, providing shelter. Survivor’s guilt still rains. My body is whatever I decide it is. I sit as drops of whatever coagulate. What name will I have after returning to dust? When I am done?
Any advice for finding a mentor or networking in general?
My advice is to ask yourself why you want a mentor. Don’t compromise on that search, the search for why and the one for mentorship itself.
After all, the way that you find your mentor may be the exact way your future mentee finds you. Do you want your mentee to go through hell & back for a relationship?
For me, a mentor is someone who doesn’t seek out to teach but to learn. Always keep learning. Also, all mentors should have their own mentors, too. And therapy. Mentors need therapy, too.
Contact Info:
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/fortheforesttrees/
Image Credits
Credit: Forest Lake Cody @fortheforesttrees on IG and online at https://sites.google.com/view/forestlakecody/home
