The following letters form part of an unpublished manuscript, Transcendental Trinkets, and constitute part of the experiment in free speech and expression performed by the editor in the town of Concord, Massachusetts, cradle of the American Revolution and birthplace of literary luminaries Thoreau and Emerson.  Testing the waters of democracy is their purpose.   

The letters were posted inside the town's padlocked bulletin board located outside by the Mill Dam and have also been distributed to concerned parties.  It is unfortunate the Chamber of Commerce had the Town get rid of the old "free" board and replace it with a pre-approval padlocked board.  After all, pre-approved speech is not free speech. Now, a town functionary, the Town Manager, must at least read them... in order to approve them.  In fact, the editor was actually able to question, challenge, observe, and even photograph another town functionary examining one of the letters in search of "obscenities" or whatever it is that will raise the iron fist of censorship.  The functionary would not tell me what she was hunting for.  She would not offer me a list of banned vocabulary. 

The letters constitute documents of "rude truth" spoken to local power.  Others exist but are not posted on this site.  Perhaps other poets ought to speak rude truth to local power, now and then—question and challenge it, rather than extend their hands like mendicants.

Dear Henry: This letter is addressed to you because you would understand it; our fellow citizens of Concord would probably not.  You know what I’m talking about: Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose.  Some say you repose incarcerated today behind the walls of the Concord Museum, while others believe you to be held hostage behind those of the Thoreau Institute, behind a display case at the Concord Free Public Library, or even recycled into a tee shirt, coffee mug, or other such trinket sold at the Shop at Walden boutique operated by the society sadly named after you. Yes, I know, how odd that is.  In Sleepy Hollow Cemetery, I’ve walked by your gravesite, but intuitively know you do not repose there either.  Since I am thus uncertain of your whereabouts, I have decided to post this letter on the Concord Bulletin Board by the Mill Dam.  Interestingly, the Chamber of Commerce controls the town today and, of course, local business pillars control it. Thus, all such postings must now be approved by the town censorial committee:  “messages containing obscenities or other inappropriate content, as determined by Town staff, will not be posted.”  Hopefully, the committee will approve this letter and not determine it to contain “inappropriate content,” whatever that might be.  Henry, I have greatly appreciated the dissident morsels dispersed throughout your journals. “Let your life be a counter friction to stop the machine,” in fact, helped spur me to create a Concord literary journal, The American Dissident, to provide a forum for examining the dark side of the Academic/Literary Industrial Complex and to incite poets and other artists to, in the words of your friend Emerson, “go upright and vital, and speak the rude truth in all ways.”  As poet-editor, I thus push myself periodically to go upright and vital, for to act alone tends to be equated with antisocial behavior, as you well know. A month ago, thus, I protested the opening of the Concord Poetry Center for three simple reasons. The first was because of what Emerson had declared:  “I am ashamed to think how easily we capitulate to badges and names.”  The Center had invited a badge and name to speak, Pulitzer Prize Franz Wright.  By the way, it is located in the arts center named after Emerson himself.  Oddly—well, perhaps not—, its director, Richard Fahlander, could not comprehend my dissent.  In fact, he refuses to respond to my letters of protest. The second reason concerned what the Center’s director Joan Houlihan had written me: “The idea of your teaching a workshop or delivering a lecture on the art of literary protest or poetry protest, or simply protest (Concord is where it all started!) occurred to me even before you mentioned it, so, yes, it’s something I will consider as we progress (this is only our first event).  However, I must say I don’t favor having you teach at the center if you protest the reading.”  The third reason concerned my endless curiosity with regards the poet today.  Oddly, indeed, not a single poet or poetophile attending the event comprehended my reasoning. The group hubris of the Center is troubling: how dare anyone criticize us, the Center, or poetry!  What marked and saddened me most during my protest was the incuriosity of local poets and poetophiles.  How could they be so un-inquisitive?  Their incuriosity is foreign to me.  I cannot comprehend it, Henry.  How could they have become so bourgeois in spirit, so safe, so un-warring with this corrupt society, so networking, so group thinking, so salivating before prizes and prize-winners?  Unfortunately, money and careerism seem to constitute the only explanation.  Well, Henry, I’ve got to stop here, since the censorial committee will only permit one page.  I’ll write again in two weeks when they tear this letter down.  Best to you, G. Tod Slone 12/1/04
 

Open Letter to Henry David Thoreau #2 
Open Letter to Henry David Thoreau #4

Open Letter to Henry David Thoreau #7
Open Letter to Henry David Thoreau #9