Wallowa

July 27, 2017

Sometimes your friends strike gold again and again. Burl Whitman has done it with a second poem in as many days: Wallowa.

I don’t fish, but the imagery of sticks, mountain stream, uncaught fish, and sun overhead, all touch deep places. The clincher lies at the end. My sabbatical, most likely my last, started back in June. First project: a book on molecular modeling co-written with a long-time collaborator. Ideas, lots of them, float around, but so far I haven’t been able to write more than a couple of pages, all crap. I feel like that guy standing hip-deep in snow-frozen water, casting his line, only to see it snarl up in the brush behind him, and to watch helplessly as the bait drops from his hook. Lost.

The year is racing by… Write. Write!

Wallowa

A wallowa is a Native American fish trap
the Nez Perce built from sticks,
like wicker fences set crosswise in the river.
They used them to herd bull and rainbow trout
into the shallows where they clubbed and gaffed them.

I spent this morning on the Minam river
at one of their old fishing spots.
I teased the river for hours with my fly line.
All I got was bone cold feet
from the mountain runoff.

On the way back to camp
I startled a bull elk in the trees
exploding the stillness
in a thud of hooves
and cracking branches.
The sun walked down the mountain
faster than I could get back across
the valley for eggs and bacon,
home made bread, jam and coffee.

Later I sat in the hot sun
warming my feet and trying to write
but in the end I just sat there
staring at the morning
with its buzzing quiet ways.
Maybe I could build
a wallowa for herding ideas,
fragments, chum and by-catch
into the shallows where my
gaff is sharp and my club is ready.
But I know the majority of the poetry fish
will swim through as they should
as though there were
no sticks in the river at all.

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One Response to “Wallowa”

  1. burlwhitman said

    Thanks for the re-post and boy can I sympathize! I recommend alcohol for cold feet…helps with writer’s cramp too…

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