Shoshone Sage

Shoshone sage crawls up a hill
where a skinny house with
horror film spires leans
against a clouded moon.

I find a spot behind my
motel gravel lot to take
this strange picture.
RV hookups, dumpster
But an owl too floats quiet,
my dog watches.

I raise my camera for
another good one,
but am startled by
a figure that appears in
my frame, like a tree
I hadn’t noticed yet.

The shutter flashes
against the ground. A young
person, curious to make
an acquaintance asks me
if I’ve heard the chimes
way up in the
Hitchcock tower.

The owl moves, the wind shifts
and we greet each other
between worlds.


Larissa Chace
Wapiti, Wyoming
6/26/02

Poetry For A Cold February Day

Sadie and I hiked the Gedney Creek
trail today right off the Selway
after riding through potholes behind
a big truck of woo hoos, each guy
with his girl, chubby hands
holding – thighs groping.

Finally at the trail head – walking
deeper into solitude, the smell of
green filling me so much I could
climax – and the glacier white creek
flying reckless over humble boulders –
I could smell that too.

And suddenly I see the mountain,
ghostly and making me hold my breath,
wanting to reach it but deciding instead
to stay in this rainforest and waterfall
land, plunging into more of that green.

© Larissa Chace Smith
Selway River, Idaho, May 25, 2002

Another Poem to Enjoy

It's funny, I read through my poetry and often feel like I am such a different person now. Then I look at the date and it just doesn't seem that long ago. Time is impalpable.

Here is another poem, untouched since the day I wrote it.

I live on a river beach
just for one day
the wild Salmon river has turned
into my bedroom fan
just for one night
and smooth round worry stones
formed by the dancings of
such a river
they are my linoleum for today.

What of the rest of the world
when I can watch the sun light
this treasure chest beach,
hear canyon wrens laughing
way up the walls,
see a proud osprey on his loft
after a fresh catch dive
and the stars of Idaho spinning
just for one night.


Salmon River, Riggins, ID
May 12, 2002

©Larissa Chace Smith

I hope you're having a wonderfully creative day. Do share your creative endeavors with all of us!

Uncovering former talents can embolden current ones

When I was in my early twenties, I loved to write poetry. While I still love to write, poetry has been a medium I have pushed to the back burner over the years. Since I always seem to have a plethora of projects going on at once (i.e. knitting, blogging, songwriting, reading, fitness, qigong, etc.), I do not worry about becoming lazy or passive about my creative urges, or about letting one or two fall by the wayside.

Yet, it is important to revisit these talents that we once nurtured, whether it is from 5, 20, or 50 years ago. Everything we do leads us toward something else. We may retire old talents or hobbies, but they will always stay with us and continue to influence our current projects and interests. When I read the poem I have featured below, I remember the young woman I was then. At the same time, the person I am today is reflected in these words as though I am looking at an old photograph of myself. Ironically, Fats Waller is an old-time jazz musician that I have listened to with my father since I was a child. So the influences in this piece (and all our creative endeavors) are innumerable and timeless.

I have not modified this poem or its structure in any way. This is exactly as I had typed it 5 years ago:

WALKING WITH FATS

Fats Waller has been my
soundtrack since the days got balmy.
I feel he would sing
about the cottonwood spores floating
as he walks down the lane with me;
about the wheat fields growing
and churning as we drive past
farms of joy.
He’d say “You’ve got it good here,
Sister, ain’t no other place like it.”
As the sound of his twinkling piano
tickles me something, I shed
my skin for another summer.


Summer on the Palouse Prairie, Idaho
6/5/02
©Larissa Chace Smith

Tell me, what are your hidden or forgotten talents, interests, and loves?