_ Listen for the howling of wolves

Dale Zieroth, a Creative Writing
Instructor at Douglas College is also a
well-known Canadian poet.. According
to Zieroth, Creative Writing is a

 

by LINDA CALDWELL

 

valuable course because students
study the techniques of writing and
' then apply these in their stories and
poems. When a student enrols in the
course it doesn’t mean that he will be
an instant poet or short story writer.
Some do. But he is experimenting with
writing, learning about himself and
how to look at things in an analytical
way.

When Zieroth looks at everyday
' events in life he creates an image and
communicates his ideas on paper in a
plain and direct way; sometimes as a
poem, sometimes as a short story,
whichever strikes him. He thinks that
a good poem will grab the reader’s
interest and make common everyday
happenings seem extraordinary.

He might write continually for two
months or he might not write at all for
six months. This hiatus doesn’t hap-

 

  

  
 

pen often but when it does it is an
irritating time in his life.

Zieroth has been teaching at Doug-
las College for approximately the last
five years during the spring and fall
semesters, and the Banff School of
Fine Arts during the summers.

He has been writing poetry all his
life but only seriously for the last
fifteen years, and has had two books of
poetry published, Clearing, Poems
from a Journey, and Mid-River. He
grew up on the prairies and had a job
as a naturalist which helped him to
write the poems about the natural
world found in his book, Mid-River.
This fall his third book of poetry will be
published called Night Passage.

Soon to be celebrating his fifteenth
wedding anniversary he leads a happy
life with his wife and two children. He
has lived in Manitoba, Toronto, the
interior of B.C., and now Vancouver.
Currently, he is working on a manu-
script of short stories and hopes to
continue his writing and teaching.

As Dale Zieroth says, ‘‘As long as
there are people in the world, there
will be poetry. Creative Writing will
never go outof business.’’

    
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  

'

? country o
fe, and from;
gins that

   
     
 
      
   
  

   

Sse and leaves
ad moved away

ce. With the others
e each bush
will kill before
ey stop andg@@ne together for
offee in scratched quart jars. And

sometimes the November sun will glint
on the rifles propped together in the snow.

  

In the evening, as they skin and gut,

they talk about the one that ran three
miles on a broken leg and the bitch wolf
they should have shot and how John

the bachelor likes eating more than
hunting and they pass the whiskey

around to keep warm. In the house

the woman makes a meal from pork.

These men are hunters and later,

standing in bright electrically lighted

rooms they are embarrassed with the

blood on their clothes and although the

woman nods and seems to understand,

she grows restless with their talk.

She has not heard another woman in fourteen days.

And when they leave, the man sleeps
and his children sleep while the woman
waits and listens for the howling of wolves. To the
north, the grey
she-wolf smells the red snow and howls.
She also is a hunter of the deer.
Tonight, while other hunters sleep, she
_ drinks at the throat.

(From Clearing, Poems from a Journey.)