September 2017
Poetry is a lonely business, but I have a friend who plays guitar, and when I play bass with him, I find community. My most recent book is In This Place: Selected Poems 1982-2013 and I've had recent poems in Hummingbird, Atticus Review, Hamilton Stone Review, and other literary magazines. I'm honored to serve as managing editor of the Lorine Niedecker Monograph Series, What Region? I blog as The Middlewesterner (www.middlewesterner.com), and have put up at least five little poems a week since mid-2008.
SEASONALLE
Autumn leaves burn the sky,
a shifting fire. The world in
its ungainly spin, and
tilt, and turn. The year is
gone and won't come again
except as reflection, as
memory's eye. What's lost
isn't found in wanting.
______________________
COUNTING
The clock is for those afraid of
time. Dividing eternity
somehow brings them comfort. Just as
fingers and toes are held against
infinity. As if counting
is wisdom enough.
______________________
THE FOX
The fox
crosses.
Stops.
I stop.
Turns.
I wait.
The light
comes
through
him, as
if he
glows.
He starts.
And stops
again.
Gives me
his
blessing.
And goes.
______________________
STONE
You think
stone
wants to be
anything
more than
stone?
Stone
is sufficient
to itself,
reminding
us: star dust.
______________________
WINTER COMING
To think somehow
it matters. Whether
today the sun,
tomorrow wind.
We huddle here,
hoping. Then
the light drills in-
to us and we are
suddenly lifted.
© 2017 Tom Montag
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