For Bob Love, the art of poetry and all of writing, for that matter, isn’t always the words on the page, but the spaces in between.

“You have to keep your brain out of it,” he surmised during an interview at his Blankenship home. “You have to sit and be quiet.”

Love is probably better known by friends and neighbors as a logger and outdoorsman, but he’s been writing for more than 50 years now. His poems are sparse and exquisite, published in a new book titled, “Pathfinder” published by Shipwreck Books and Publishing Co.

Take the poem “Lunch” for example:

Venison jerky,

chewed with

fresh-picked

cranberries, blueberries

and an errant blackfly,

garnished with

a wisp

of caribou moss.

Instant pemmican!

Washed down

with teabrown

creek water.

Love is the William Carlos Williams of Blankenship.

His book “Pathfinder” is roughly half poetry, half essays and short stories.

His short stories and essays are powerful, mystical and many are based on his all too real dreams. Many of the stories have been published in other publications over the years, the poems, not so much. He recalled finding some of them in a drawer in his desk as the book was being worked on by the publisher.

Love, 70, has spent most of his life in the woods as a logger. He grew up hunting and fishing in Western Pennsylvania. When he was a senior in high school, he had a best friend whose grandparents lived in Forsyth.

So they made a road trip to Montana — riding buses, hitchhiking, whatever.

He ended up in Bozeman, got a degree in creative writing and met his wife, Inez, there. She was a Whitefish native and eventually, they moved to the Flathead after she finished college.

Love went to work in the woods as a sawyer and continued writing when he could. He grew alarmed at industrial logging, however, and over the years has taken a much different approach to woods management.

In his essay “Principles and Practices of Modern Forestry” he writes “Logging should be a thoughtful process of elimination, in which the decisions become more difficult as the work progresses,” he writes.

In his essay “Forest of Lookout Ridge,” he writes, “It’s juvenile and dangerous to assume that forests need us more than we need them; forests have “managed” themselves for millions of years without our help.”

That isn’t to say Love does take an axe or saw to trees — he certainly does — it’s just with a wisdom of knowing and working in the woods for decades.

The essays are as much an appreciation of the natural world as much as anything.

For Love, it’s about respect and gratitude — something that is diminishing at an alarming rate in this modern world.

He embraces a life philosophy of giving back.

“If you take something, you should offer something in return,” he said. “(Some) see that as mysticism. But really it’s common sense.”

Yet some of the stories are indeed, mystical in nature. Take “Aurora” which is a dream Love had, with its creationist theme.

Other stories are deeply personal, yet no less spiritual, like “Kerrie,” a story of how friends come together to celebrate the end of a woman’s life who is dying from a terminal illness.

His advice for budding writers and poets is simple, and one that could be applied to anyone.

“Don’t just think about stuff,” he said. “Challenge and push yourself and be ready to fail.”

“Pathfinder” is available at local bookstores as well as on Amazon.