Author Archives

Ian Dundas

Ian A Dundas is a 4th generation Montanan who never inherited the family ranch. Instead, he knocked around and stopped writing for 17 years only to now surface in an attempt to regain some failed potential. If there is any. He has been forged by the land, the sudden changing weather, the cities, the small rural towns, and the bars. Ian is a 2003 graduate of Rocky Mountain College and currently works his dead end job in Billings, Montana where he lives in a small house with his dogs.

Poetry

Conversations with Ravens

December 18, 2023 Like 0 Ian Dundas

Some of the best conversations I have are with Ravens on blue mornings. We mourn the old grain silos and loss of old barns as yellow leaves fall upon red leaves already downed. They tell me of their struggles –…

Poetry

The Magic City

December 11, 2023 Like 0 Ian Dundas

This place has been scarred since the white man showed up damaged and broken. It’s poison It’s forever reaching mediocrity and obtaining it every time. This is a place once under water that needs to be washed of its bullshit.…

Poetry

Dream jobs

December 4, 2023 Like 0 Ian Dundas

I have never understood the phrase “dream job” because I have never dreamt of labor – working some job where someone else gets rich off your back while attempting to strip you of your individuality. I dream of other things.…

Poetry

Things I Can Put My Lack of Faith In…

November 27, 2023 1 0 Ian Dundas

I have faith in the borrow pit alongside forgotten two lane highways and backroads that go on forever, music, bourbon, Irish whiskey half empty dive bars on cold winter nights and the small of a woman’s back. There’s faith in…

Poetry

Old Brick Buildings on a Blue Sunday

November 20, 2023 Like 0 Ian Dundas

There is at least three types of puke on the sidewalk in a one block stretch and many more in puddled alleys where derelicts rest on a Blue Sunday in March Blue Sunday. You feel it in the air with…

Poetry

Drowning

November 13, 2023 Like 0 Ian Dundas

It can become overwhelming when you’re drowning and locked inside your head. The silence of a house where you hear every sound it makes each pop and chime the sound of the furnace clicking on and it echos through your…

Poetry

When the Street Signs Melt

November 6, 2023 Like 0 Ian Dundas

I want to watch the Rimrocks cry during a heavy rain that spews it’s tears into the basements of those who are dumb enough to live underneath while the Shop Vacs clog and turn to mold. I want the street…

Poetry

Observations While Sitting At Walker’s Watching Cars Go By

October 30, 2023 Like 0 Ian Dundas

I can’t decide if my chest pains are from anxiety or heart burn. Punishing myself for the past. Heartache. What I do know… The wind blows sticks off trees and those sticks multiply when you pick them up. Bartenders fail…

Poetry

Side Exit

October 23, 2023 Like 0 Ian Dundas

A proper suicide should be an Irish goodbye. Out the side exit stage left You duck out without a word leaving a scene a place that you didn’t want to be part of. A lifetime trying to escape and the…

Poetry

Thoughts On Good Friday While Having A Late Afternoon Drink At Doc Harper’s | Whiskey and Words

September 11, 2023 Like 0 Ian Dundas

I have never frozen to death while passed out in a snow bank but I’ve gotten hypothermia sitting next to a loved one. The worst place to puke is in the shower still drunk while Conway Twitty sings of Linda…