Strange Conveyances
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In Strange Conveyances, a real world is evoked. Within the re-enactment, the recollection, the facsimile, the poet goes about his mysterious business. In the manner of the last man cataloguing the universe for whatever might follow mankind, or an American Proust discovering himself in the lingering images of memory like a ghost on the edge of a photograph, Montgomery is both the wise, mundivagant sage and the baseball-capped friend at the bar, discussing the wonderful machinations of existence with the easy tones of a close friend shooting the breeze about the weekend ballgame. Like any gifted...
In Strange Conveyances, a real world is evoked. Within the re-enactment, the recollection, the facsimile, the poet goes about his mysterious business. In the manner of the last man cataloguing the universe for whatever might follow mankind, or an American Proust discovering himself in the lingering images of memory like a ghost on the edge of a photograph, Montgomery is both the wise, mundivagant sage and the baseball-capped friend at the bar, discussing the wonderful machinations of existence with the easy tones of a close friend shooting the breeze about the weekend ballgame. Like any gifted interlocutor's, his reports are personal, but universal; the inner logic of the poetry, with its philosophical clarity and ensuing verisimilitude, never fails to reveal emotional or psychological truths that are impossible to deny - thanks in the main to a charming and overarching benevolence. Chris Hobday, The Conversation Paperpress Every now and then, we chance upon a work of art that makes us aware of life in all of its complexities, splendor, and wonderment. M.V. Montgomery's Strange Conveyances is one such work. Montgomery's poetry is real and accessible-not the poetry of angst buried in dark corners, but the work of one who lives with eyes open, drinking in the details of beauty we as humans too often overlook. Whether he is writing of an afternoon football game among friends or the real pain of a child without a father, Montgomery grasps us and pulls us closer in to the picture. "Look," his poetry urges us, "look at life before it passes you by." Amy L. George, Editor, Bird's Eye reView
