poetry

Poetry
5:13 pm
Wed February 26, 2014

Pigs, Poems, and the Purpose of Farming

HomeFarm, a collection of poems by Josh Slotnick

During this program, Josh Slotnick talks about the art of farming, pigs, and his new poetry collection, FarmHome. He also reads a few poems.

About the book:

David James Duncan called Slotnick "a Wendell-Berry-style 'mad farmer'" and said, "The bracing bittersweetness lacing this free-verse report from the frontlines of a post-corporate agricultural renaissance is all the sweetness we need. HomeFarm is one of the most responsible books of poetry I've ever read."

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Monday Poems
5:31 am
Mon February 24, 2014

"A Cold Night"

Badlands Child, poems by Philip J. Burgess

Heavy with ancient memories of grace
and the ghosts of a thousand riders,
the solitary horse moves slowly down from the canyon
of deep winter shadows
towards a moon trapped in river ice.

Diamonds sift down from a cottonwood
onto quivering yellow-white haunches;
a cold night for crossing frozen water,
a cold night for an old dreaming gypsy horse
to step over the moon.

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Poetry and Indian Culture
3:32 pm
Wed February 19, 2014

Montana Indian Poetry and Culture

The Indian in the Liquor Cabinet and Other Poems, by Joseph McGeshick

Historian, teacher, and poet Joseph McGeshick talks about Montana’s Native American poets and about what’s happening on the Fort Peck Indian Reservation. He also read a few of his poems.

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Monday Poems
6:06 am
Mon February 10, 2014

"Still Alive"

Matthew Hansen

Grain from farms along the Highline
fills the hold of Nordic Monarch.
Madrona sheds its bark like skin and
the surface of the sea is more
sensitive than skin. Somewhere
my noble fir breathes in
a million cells of air.

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Monday Poems
6:29 am
Mon February 3, 2014

"Children of Snow"

Put Sey (Good Enough), poems by Victor A. Charlo

                                       for my Children

I try to stay snow that my children wish
would come hard in Missoula, come hard
in me. There is fun in me like children
of fox and geese, sleds without tracks,
without worry. Yet this winter weighs heavy
as wet snow as I visit Welch and ramble
wishing for right time for ripe snow.

Sing a song for all children
who know that snow is holy,
falls holy on us, we, who should rejoice
in this time of work, of play, of holy
laughter that rings at crisp stars.

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Monday Poems
6:34 am
Mon January 27, 2014

"Study for the Ridgeline Blue in Winter"

by cold water, poems by Chris Dombrowski

Throbs up from the darkening draws, eluding
dusk's clutch. Calls out and the owl
calls back, answering with her own ample koan.
When the world was flat we thought darkness
fell. Now we know it rises firelike from earth,
spindling up the oaks' trunks, engulfing
ridge and canopy.
                      The resulting smoke, then—
hue of a breath exhaled by a late-arriving disciple
come to examine the charred chaos of day
(such a staunch monk!) igniting itself again—
the odorless remains.
                       Then. The hanging

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Photography and Poetry
6:28 am
Wed January 22, 2014

Still Here: Not Living in Tipis

Still Here: Not Living in Tipis, photographs and poetry by Sue Reynolds and Victor Charlo

San Francisco Bay-area photographer Sue Reynolds and American Indian poet Victor Charlo talk about their book, Still Here: Not Living in Tipis.

In this first collaborative photo-poetry book between a white urban photographer and a reservation Indian, Sue Reynolds' images and Salish poet Victor Charlo's poems tell a story of resurrection in the face of long odds. The book includes forty-five color photos and five Salish poems. A percentage of sales goes to American Indian College Fund.

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Monday Poems
6:23 am
Mon January 20, 2014

"Dreaming Winter"

Riding the Earthboy 40: poems, by James Welch

Don't ask me if these knives are real.
I could paint a king or show a map
the way home—to go like this:
Wobble me back to a tiger's dream
a dream of knives and bones too common
to be exposed. My secrets are ignored.

Here comes the man I love. His coat is wet
and his face is falling like the leaves,
tobacco stains on his Polish teeth.
I could tell jokes about him—one up
for the man who brags a lot, laughs
a little and hangs his name on the nearest knob.
Don't ask me. I know it's only hunger.

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Monday Poems
9:23 am
Mon January 13, 2014

"Light"

Reading Novalis in Montana, poems by Melissa Kwasny

An artist places the intangible
              and tangible objects on the table together:
drift of diamond light from the Sky of the Mind
with the Asian poppy, the plate of wild seedling plums.

The direction is set, sun caught in eastern branches
when our empty hands have their other side of fullness.
              Still life: morning star. Moon.
Dawn. The sun (who is A Bird Singing in the Moonlight).

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Monday Poems
6:33 am
Mon December 30, 2013

"January in Montana"

Jennifer Greene

Light from the sky is precious like sips
of hot tea, a luxury, elite. On my drive
to work, I pass through wetlands filled
with Canadia geese and hawks.
Morning frost drapes the hood
of my car in wet velvet. Fog lifts from
ponds: a lace shawl hugging
curves of the water's edge.

Dead weeds in fields join mounds
of stone sugared under hoarfrost.
Snowflakes fluttering,
inexhaustible lovers waltzing.

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