Arts & Culture

Gustafson, Sid
I pregnacy test1,000 mother cows under a warm, sweet wind.Spilt milk clouds.Green grass in November.Ring-tailed hawks perch over the emptiness on thecottonwoods of Little McGinnis Creek, waiting fordeath that will not come. Read more >>
Illustration by Monte Dolack
Jelinski, Jack
Caddisflies in my ears and up my nose,Caddisflies riding the brim of my hat.Inside my waders and inside my clothes,Trichoptera stuck to my hemostat.  Read more >>
Illustration by Ian Jones
Jelinski, Jack
The essence of springcan be found in giant willowswhose roots seek depthsof sweet-scented earthto siphon water from subterranean streamsquickeningtheir leafy embrace of the moon.  Read more >>
Green, Anita Noelle
Seasons continue to changeBut does she remain the same?Though winter becomes warmerShe finds herself colderThe wind wanders west  Read more >>
"Dark Side" by Kelsey Dzintars
Gustafson, Sid
Olivia hikes by.Some follow, others cry.She lured usUpward, oh so high. Climbing chertShe scales the cirque.Quads afireWe all kick higher.Off the topShe does her hop.A cadenced thing,She floats, she swings.  Read more >>
"Two Ravens" by Zuzana Drobnik
Kubat, Terry
silhouettes of rugged rangedevoid of depth wild with changeblackened ridge in sharp reliefgrand clear dusk, contrast so brief drama framing home’s commutewestward lies my normal routeshadows grow beyond immensemountains meld with sky pretense  Read more >>
Utility Box Wrap, Bozeman
Brayton, Lea
Local artists turn utility into art. Read more >>
bare trees, plowing
Pogge, Drew
Hours ‘til dawn,coffee’s all gone.It’s snowing and blowingand carryin’ on. Been at it since three,just the night and me.Moving snow into piles,clearing the streets.  Read more >>
ice fishing, Montant, Subaru
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 >>
Snow Geese, Poetry, Bozeman, Montana
Knight, Phil
Step outsideIt’s still and coldThe mountains shineLike burnished goldAll aroundThe silence ringsYou feel the powerThat wildness bringsThis is the worldAs it was madeThis crystal snowThat virgin gladeHigh overhead Read more >>
Madison River, Brown Trout, Fly fishing
Bussard, Jesse
Dries, nymphs, emergers, attractors, streamers.So many flies to choose from,But only one will spark the fancy of that elusive trout. I tie on my fly of choice,A Kelly Gallup special, brown in color,Affectionately named the Sex Dungeon.  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 >>
Gustafson, Sid
In your confounded struggleFor originality, nights lengthen.Snows flicker… drift… and fall…Heat departs the landscape, after all.Flurries list in; holding, cold.Spines of stone lace the snow. Read more >>
Sid Gustafson
I was young once, and not briefly,When those lyric Muses tweaked me.A golden aspen day now long ago,When time drifted on, if oh so slow. Read more >>
Chadwick, Joan
In the fall,WATCH FOR ICE ON BRIDGE.Along the highway that slamdunks, dropkicks,butts and bucks your Bronco into town,pre-war posted, shotgunned signwords warnROUGH ROAD NEXT 40 MILES. Read more >>
O'Neal, Meghan
Mimi Matsuda first visited Yellowstone when she was eight years old, wide-eyed at the beauty the Park had to offer. From the seemingly magic geysers to the unmatched wildlife, young Mimi drank it in. Amidst the crowds, she spotted a tan, flat-brimmed hat. 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 >>
When the World Fell Awayby Liz Williams  Read more >>
Mike England
Oh Dawn, bringer of light,With eternal vision deliver us from night.And color the world, not black nor white,But ambiguous grey, a beautiful sight! Read more >>
Foster, John Clay
Dedicated to Bob PackFather deer lucidly daydreams.His hooves twitch back and forthbetween sticky strings of alfalfa.He whimpers then yelps:"Shoot him!"Mother deer sits straight by his side,she ponders the pinkish-red flowers Read more >>
©2019 Outside Media Group, LLC
Powered by BitForge