From here to Idaho vast empty white miles of snow— my coffee, black.
The seven magpies in the willow thicket reminded Harry of the West Washington Creek Book Coterie. (Harry had some hesitation in calling the group a "Book Club," the reason for which will become obvious, presently.) The difference between the magpies and the coterie was that the magpies were not regularly emptying and filling water glasses … Continue reading Book Club Goes off the Rails
In the early afternoon on Monday of the third week, Jordan Wilmerton rode up beside the wagon and said, “Well, Amanda, you are headed back to the States now.” “The States are East, Mr. Wilmerton,” she grinned at him. “That’s North. That’s Montana.” Montana had been a destination now for nearly a month. Montana, and … Continue reading “That’s North, That’s Montana,” She Said.
This morning Archie Dwiddlen was retrospecting about some of our old neighbors. It seems Alden and Issac were neighbors with a fence between them. There was a some confusion about who should maintain the fence. Alden was pretty sure it was Issac’s potion of the fence that Alden’s mongrel angus bull was sneaking through to … Continue reading A Neighbor, a Bull, Some Purebred Cows, and a Dilapidated Fence.
Someone has painted the town on this abandonment, the old slaughter house— a concrete block canvas, subject of perversion and violence— the hermaphrodite full fronts under white scrawls of FUCK N SUCK N WAR. Like poetry, this does not mean but only is, its etymology—confusion of abandon and empty— of bovine blood and a boy … Continue reading Across the Tracks from Bozeman
Spring has fuddled off into mountains bleared with late April blizzard. Prompted and brought to you by "Vague"
Twenty-first century Americans often forget just how shallow, historically speaking, our tenure in these plains, river valleys, and mountains is. We speak of our land, our home, our way of life, forgetting that this land was home to people long before our grandfathers came looking for furs and gold. We forget that these people had … Continue reading The History Club Plans a Field Trip
The wind gusts out of the north at anywhere between bend-willows-to-the-ground and snap-cottonwoods-in-half, with a resting blow of flat-out-vicious. Whether it is snowing or not is hard to tell, but there is snow in the air, moving horizontally over bent-flat willows and busted cottonwood groves, and settling occasionally into great snow dunes the size of … Continue reading You want Uncompromising!? I give you a Montana blizzard.
We have lost the look of angel’s eyes and wear the hunched mask that smiles not our smiles and not God's. A cross-man hangs from the rear view, where a grim grin neglects to see Gone Mountain, or the silence of geese above the Silver Bow, or the last old lunger dragging his air along … Continue reading Butte and Our Lady