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From: Vol.10 N.01 – The Transformative Now

Wahclella Falls

by Laurence Lillvik
I dreamed of you and your footpath,
dizzying greens even in winter,
so many times that when, finally,

I was in your not-so-secret realm I
knew your persistent summoning
succeeded. I brought visitors,

often hungover, but sure enough
of step to not plummet to the creek.
Sam, a friend from my urban past,

said you looked like a screen-
saver. I never swam in your pool
on a hot summer day and now that

your parking lot is a crap shoot and
thieves'-dream I wonder if I will.
Did you feel me New Year's Day?

We didn't make it very far,
you protected yourself
from the less serious of us

with a slick carpet of snow.
I wanted to share you again,
now with my love, but maybe

you were angry that I
hadn't said hello since the
advent of smartphones and I

never remembered your name,
or called you Wahkeena, your
kin up the road. Theresa wants to

get crampons to reach you this
winter, we'll see if that happens,
but please know that I miss you.
Published: June 2023
Laurence Lillvik
is the editor of Skullcrushing Hummingbird, an international art and lit zine. He is the author of the poetry collections: Active Threat Training Refresher and Tongues Tied to Anchors. His epic found poem, Criterion, will be published by Greying Ghost Press in 2023. Laurence has spent the last twenty years slinging books and babysitting adults at public libraries in Portland, Oregon. You can find links to his work collected at

An Australian and international
journal of ecopoetry and ecopoetics.

Plumwood Mountain Journal is created on the unceded lands of the Gadigal and Wangal people of the Eora Nation. We pay our respects to all Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people, and to elders past, present and future. We also acknowledge all traditional custodians of the lands this journal reaches.