Tuesday, November 24, 2020

WE HAVEN'T 


We haven't yet
taken wing.

There are limits
to what any

heart can want.



INSTRUCTION 


Like a new-
born heaving

for breath, the
poem has

preference for
air. Do not

hold back from
white space and

stanza break.
Let light shine

through the lines.



Monday, November 23, 2020

LEAF 


Leaf
in the breeze,
a winking eye.

Even in autumn,
some sun.



WHEN ONLY 


When only
the mountain

remains, you
who were there

might leave it
for me, and

I who was
not will sit

with it -- as
if I could

be a saint.
The mountain

would not have
it any

other way.



Sunday, November 22, 2020

SOME OF THE PEASANTS 


Some of the peasants
are peasants,
who keep the great wheels turning.

Some of the peasants
are poets,
who try to give us hope.

Some of the peasants
are sons-a-bitches
who drive the darkness on,

blind to stars above.



BELIEVE 


Believe
in the stars
as if

in God.
The stars will
save you.

The stars
will take you
to that

place which
lies beyond
caring

about
existence,
about

the soul's
endurance,
about

any-
thing other
than the

stuff we
were, and are,
the stars.


Saturday, November 21, 2020

AH 


The tawny plains,
the dark air,

and mountains,
ah, the mountains!



SO, YES, THE 


So, yes, the
universe
hums

an E-flat
thousands of
octaves

below what
we can
hear,

a jazz
trumpet or
sax

wailing
the only
note

that matters.



Friday, November 20, 2020

SMALL BIRDS 


Small birds
like leaves
in high wind,

the sky wide
with turning.



SOMETIME 


Sometime
someone
will say

the last
thing that
can be

said. It
won't be
me, for

I still
stand in
the mid-

dle of
the fire;
I still

burn with
asking
what might

bring this
final
silence.



Thursday, November 19, 2020

LOVE 


Even at this
distance, the taste
of it, the fierceness.



SPRING IS ONLY 


Spring is only
this sauntering.

Its leaf-green
offering is

only a tug at
our wanting more

every day than
the grey memory

of winter's
bitterness.

Come, sun, break
this earth open

like a flower
blossoming, like

a heart bursting
with joy, like

a cliche
in glory. Let us

enter the promise
of spring with

everything
we've got. We've got

nothing to lose.



Wednesday, November 18, 2020

SPIDER/POET 


Spider
in his web,

and morning dew.

Poet
waiting for the sun.

Are we not brothers?



LINKS TO PUBLICATIONS FEATURING THE WOMAN IN AN IMAGINARY PAINTING 


POEMS: THE WOMAN IN AN IMAGINARY PAINTING

Atticus Review
https://atticusreview.org/from-the-woman-in-an-imaginary-painting/

Cacti Fur
https://cactifur.com/2020/04/08/tom-montag-from-the-woman-in-an-imaginary-painting/

Hamilton Stone Review
https://www.hamiltonstone.org/hsr42.html

Ink Sweat & Tears
http://www.inksweatandtears.co.uk/pages/?p=21764

Litterateur
https://litterateurrw.com/magazines/november_20/files/basic-html/page54.html

Mad Swirl
http://madswirl.com/poetry/2020/07/from-the-woman-in-an-imaginary-painting/
https://madswirl.com/poetry/2020/11/from-the-woman-in-an-imaginary-painting-the-paradox/

The Miscreant
https://miscreantmagazine.com/2020/07/28/feature-tom-montag/

Orange Blush
https://orangeblushzine.wixsite.com/home/obz1

Otoliths
https://the-otolith.blogspot.com/2019/11/tom-montag.html

Sheilanagig
https://sheilanagigblog.com/volume-4-3-spring-2020-the-poets/tom-montag/

Sparks of Calliope
https://sparksofcalliope.wordpress.com/2020/11/18/selections-from-the-woman-in-an-imaginary-painting-by-tom-montag/

13 Myna Birds
http://13myna.blogspot.com/2013/02/13.html

Trouvaille Review
https://www.trouvaillereview.org/home/10-poems-from-the-woman-in-the-imaginary-painting-by-tom-montag

Verse-Virtual
http://www.verse-virtual.org/2020/April/tom-montag-2020-april.html
http://www.verse-virtual.org/2020/June/tom-montag-2020-june.html



I DO NOT 

 
I do not
wish

to repeat
the old

stories,
myths

and such.
I want

to shape
new ones.

Yet
I know

there is
nothing

new
under

the sun,
except

perhaps
some new

configuration.



Tuesday, November 17, 2020

MONTANA LANDSCAPE 


Montana landscape
folding up the sky:

there is no going back,
even if you want to.



LIFT 


Lift,
where wind

meets
the ridge,

where hawk
rides.



Monday, November 16, 2020

BARE TREES 


Bare trees
holding the sky

as if praying.



BEAUTY 


Beauty
of the hawk,

the terror
you can't stop

watching.



Sunday, November 15, 2020

LOW LIGHT 


Low light this morning,
the darkness holding back hope.
All who have a voice
seem to say, No, no, no.



PLAIN JANE 


Plain Jane
sitting
at the feeder,

brown-headed
cow-bird,
seed-eater.



Saturday, November 14, 2020

A WHOLE CAW 


A whole caw of crows,
fifty or more,

like bishops at prayer,
only sweeter.



LET US GO 


Let us go
down the mountain,
the monk says.

Let us find
the plain truth.



Friday, November 13, 2020

OH, CROW 


Oh, crow,
were you a lovely bird

the world would be ugly.



SHOULD THE MONK 


Should the monk
come down the mountain?
Should he offer

another sermon?
No one listens.
What he says is

nothing new,
like the light of
ancient stars

that is arriving
only now.
No one listens.

In the distance
mountain's darkness,
a farther silence.



Thursday, November 12, 2020

LATE APRIL 


The flesh of
spring, so red

until everything
turns green.



I HEAR IT 


I hear it
in the darkness,
the monk says;

I hear it
at the edge of light
and in full sun,

everywhere,
the voice that bears
repeating.



Wednesday, November 11, 2020

FUNERAL 


Where wind
takes the dust

the silence
takes us.



THE OLD / MONK 


The old
monk leaves

his miles
behind

like dust.
This is,

he says,
enough.



Tuesday, November 10, 2020

THE BLUE SKY 


The blue sky:
and trees are

lifting towards
unseen stars.



MONK FORGETS 


Monk forgets
he is monk.

He wonders
when will the

lovely young
things love me?



Monday, November 09, 2020

CROSSING TRACKS IN FARM COUNTRY 



Such a shine of steel rails
in the vibrating light of air.
Farmers are working these fields
and spring is becoming summer.



THE OLD MONK'S PLAN 


The old monk's plan
is to make no plan.



Sunday, November 08, 2020

THE CITY AT NIGHT 


The city at night
like embers glowing
in a campfire.

The wind is still, yet
the stars waver
in their wisdom.



KNOWING HOW 


Knowing how
to let go,

the monk says,
doesn't mean

you can fly.



Saturday, November 07, 2020

THE BLESSING 


The blessing
is not
the gift you got.

The blessing
is that
it was given.



I AM 


I am the
bullet of darkness,
raven says.

The old monk
says, I am
an unlit candle.



Friday, November 06, 2020

SOMEONE WILL 


Someone will do this.
Someone has to

tell of the cold
hard rain and

an empty heart.



I PUSH THE WIND 


I push the wind,
the old monk says.

I think my empty thoughts.



Thursday, November 05, 2020

INSISTENT 


Insistent
the way the grey

day insists
on rain, the way

leaving home
means coming

back. Who can
hope for more?



RAVEN / WEARS 


Raven
wears winter
like a coat,

something
the old monk
understands.



Wednesday, November 04, 2020

MORE THE SOUND 


More the sound
of rain on

the water
than silence

this morning.
More than

hope's loss.



MONK'S CHOICE 


Mountain. Rock
the color of

blood. In this
wind he would

test the wings
of angels.



Tuesday, November 03, 2020

GRACE 


Grace and strength,
her loveliness
in motion.



WATER FROM ROCK 


Water from rock
runs down the mountain.

The mind of the monk
goes with it.



Monday, November 02, 2020

HAWK / IS 

Hawk is
to death

as fire
is to

silence--
fulfill-

ament.



DISTANCE IS 


Distance is time
times his desire.

The the darkness
the old monk wears

stars in his hair.
All he wants is

a little something
in his cup and

never having
to explain.



Sunday, November 01, 2020

WHERE WATER 


Where water, hope
is a river.



WIND / IS 

 
Wind
is what

the trees
wait for,

to take
the leaves,

all
except

the white
oak, which

waits for
spring.



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