WAKING ON THE CLEARWATER

FIDDLE FART

Like I just said,

for an hour,

trying to download

photos on Facebook

but I wrote

a poem in 5 minutes

before that

and it made my day

Jim Bodeen

27 August 2016

AFTER GRILLING STREET TACOS

BY THE SIDE OF THE ROAD

ABOUT 15 MILES BELOW LOLO PASS

I put my feet

in the Lochsa River

and take a drink of iced tea

Pick up the notebook

When I leave here

I will read my notes

telling me to pick up

my camera

Jim Bodeen

27 August 2016

ALA' LIMYA TAKANIIN

THE PHOTOGRAPHIC IMAGE

HE COULDN'T SHAKE IN THE DREAM,

CHIEF LOOKING GLASS,

COMING UP AGAIN,

CYCLONE TRAVELER

He was two days

on the rivers, famous ones,

to say their names

takes one into the current

that never comforts.

Clearwater. Loscha.

Looking Glass. Howard.

Nez Perce. Lolo Pass.

Rivers of names,

Lewis and Clark,

running through rivers.

He'd stop at turnouts

read the markers,

wade in the water

overturn stones,

remembering his teacher,

Don't scratch the stones,

Put them back,

No I don't see faces,

I see landscapes

Rivers and mountains.

He had to remind himself

with each step,

Don't slip in the current

Jim Bodeen

26 August 2016

WAKING ON THE CLEARWATER

NEAR KOOSKIA, IDAHO

I look for the trail to the water,

crossing canoe pulled up in grass

with an abandoned life jacket.

Nearby, discarded lawn chairs

and a styrofoam cooler in weeds.

I pick up two smooth stones

and put them in my pack

recalling my teacher's words

in the Suiseki Kawa Dojo,

classroom on the river,

They're nice, Jim,

but they're still flat grey rocks.

Returning to the Mothership

I copy story by David Archambault II,

Taking a Stand at Standing Rock

from the New York Times

into my notebook, beginning,

"Our elders of the Seven Council Fires,

as the Oceti Sakowin, or Great Sioux Nation,

sit in prayer and deliberation

awaiting a federal court decision

on whether construction of a $3.7 billioN

oil pipeline from the Bakken region

to Southern Illinois will be halted."

Cutting the honeydew melon

on the cutting board, a sweet and juicy

gift from our neighbor, I wash lettuce

in the sink, still troubled by a phone call. 

I look around the camper

for something like a word

to help my heart expand.

This is the middle fork of the Clearwater

and I drive into Kooskia for some form

of orientation. On the wall

in the Kooskia Cafe, a black and white

photograph of Chief Joseph

with James Stuart and Alice Fletcher.

On the way out of town, a sign:

Purple Feather Smoke Shop.

At the Tukaytespe' Picnic Area

another sign remembers Looking Glass

talking to Howard: Leave us alone.

I pick two ripe blackberries

the size of my thumb.

Jim Bodeen

26-27 August 2016