Internationally published poet Kathy Kopp does not rush through the world. She goes slowly, noticing the dusty woods dandruff on the spruce and the small-town man with his chain saw, carving a Big Foot from a ten-foot log. Her versions of the rodeo on the res and the ordinary hike are "mysterious circles on the landscape where meaning and sympathy are born." (Fr. Hugh Feiss, Monastery of the Ascension, Jerome, Idaho.) Kathy comes from an artistic family, having arrived in Montana with her comp more...
