Paint & Poetry

"I have not tried to reproduce nature: I have represented it." –Paul Cezanne

England, Mike
Atop the ridge I sit and overlookThe valley floor. Amidst the sprawling fieldsOf green and yellow grass, among the grovesOf spruce and Douglas fir, within the boundsOf earthen mounds that reach toward the sky,There lies a gray expanse of artifice. Read more >>
Beaudoin, Kate
Shakespeare wrote “thy breath be rude,”but I think thy breath has little attitude.Dullness, neglect, but not vulgarity—of emotions you haven’t even slight sincerity.While your chill betrays some tempered winds,your stillness renders still their sin. Read more >>
Foster, John Clay
The last of the geese have frozen over in my backyard,covered in a foot of snow. I dig one out each weekand thaw it in the fridge—with a high success rate;even the runt is able to take flight after a few days at 50 degrees. Read more >>
Pinet, Carolyn Pettit
Ahead of me Hardscrabblecracks knuckles against clouds.Behind the Bridgers splaycrags in the oystery air.I move to a tango.Skies and poles glide, cut, break.I am partnered by the windagainst whom I tangle, kick.A flake catches my lash, Read more >>
Drews, Debbie
I killed it, I did not mean it, but it’s deadNot a comrade, nor from a cliff. I looked back with dreadSquashed down flat, bang in my tire track. Swerve, I tried!In my head, the taste of the dead. Blood flicks my underside Read more >>
Gustafson, Sid
I went insane, you know. Certain Glacierepiphanies under the eastern mountainfront affected a cure, continental divideroad goings of sorts. My point of origindoes not matter, not anymore, Yellowstonewas only a fleeting southerly destination.  Read more >>
Beaut Day
Jelinski, Jack
I have an old-school, classic creelso worn I have replaced straps.I keep it in shapewith that elixir of ancient leather,Neatsfoot.Should use some on myself.Always fish with my basket,keep an occasional fish to fillet,take out the y-bones: Read more >>
"Bare Trees #17", Illustration by Kathy Bonnema Lesile, winter, Montana
Jelinski, Jack
Six lines out at Canyon Ferrywith jumbo perch stacked aroundtwo hot holes like cordwood,while the other four iced-upand got cold at noon maybebecause the fish stopped thinkingthat maggots looked like shrimp,or became afraid to eat the eyeballs Read more >>
fish caught in moonlight
England, Mike
Poised carefully on the rocky bank,My stance is firm and wide.The line stretches, as if to break—Oh, can I win this fight?He increases the distance between usAs I stand helpless on the shore.I know too well the consequences; Read more >>
Illustration, colored highway
Jensen, Brady
An empty bench, well-placed for the philosophic mind,Welcomes a wearied traveler, who’d forgotten the tedium of the hike.It has been years since you walked those slopes,Since you tried to look upon the roof of your home, or further. Read more >>
Hollow Top Mark Genito
Foster, John Clay
       Read more >>
Hollow Top Mark Genito
Templeton, Arthur
      Slate, like faces staring into the suncold from the internalnessof stonelying open and exposedwaiting to be warmed Read more >>
Painting by Edd Enders
Kubat, Terry
landmarks are prominent in Bozemandistant constraints with low punctuationaspiring destinations capped in distant turbulencelife is a breeze across the expanseall to see and share the blue-rainbow-skythere is room for a view and the view is: Read more >>
Painting by Allison McGree
Knight, Phil
Do you visit the high plateausMerely to hide awayOr have you come to the mountainsTo hear what they have to say?For the mountains sing of a timeWhen the Earth was young and green;Many’s the sunset and moonriseThese aged crags have seen. Read more >>
Painting by Laura Blue Palmer
Jensen, Brady
From time to time the river would expel a pronounced “gurgle” as water rushed into a pocket created by the infinite droplets moving in their mysterious ways. She listened from the bank and watched the water pass by. Read more >>
Foster, John Clay
Roads of the West refuse to end, they waver over rivers, roll sleeves up cityscapes. Comb hair inwindows of downtown breakfast joints or fancylooking cowboy bars. They shuffle hooves withwild horses, cross wood bridges over dried up Read more >>
Hyalite LoopWoods in early spring;beside a sea-green saplinga deer carcass thaws.—Mike England Read more >>
Foster, John Clay
Mountain peaks shiver, breatheand wiggle their foothill features,pee behind a cloud, maybe shakeup some starter-sprouts, yawn,cough up a couple leftover winter Read more >>
Reuss, Dave
I hate this.Goddamn spring.Sloppy streets mockMuddy trails evict you.But then, the sun shinesSo clean and warm, teasing.Dreams of red, sunburned belliesAnd cheap laughs on the Madison.Days where dark doesn’t mean cold. Read more >>
Frost, Mick
Oh Dawn, bringer of light,With eternal vision deliver us from night.And color the world, not black, not white,But ambiguous grey, a beautiful sight! Read more >>
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