Adam's Beanstalk

A daily adventure-bag of insights and old bones from an unknown poet in Manitoba's south. Caveat: Not everything is to be taken literally. Things are often shaded with poetic crayons; be the owl. Also, not all these bones are collected from different fields. Find themes that run througout each post and the journal as a whole; the most insignificant event may be part of an ear.

Sunday, March 26, 2006

Those Renew Days

Well, how-dee-ho to you all! Just wanted to tells all you readers out there that I will be packin' up the saddles and ridin' down the trails out west this next week on Rosenort EMC's very own Magical Mystery (Spring) Tour, which will take us through ghost towns and native reserves, and even through a jail (How I loved my time alone!). There are sure to be lives that are changed on this trip, so I'd ask y'all to pray for us. God willin', I do know when I'll be coming back again: next Monday. So until then, Happy Trails!

Friday, March 24, 2006

Holding bones in the palm of my hand
I spit sunflowers to the ground, to the ground
Where the sun falls with a sound around
the sunken bus tracks,
a mound of cables and dead electricity.

Tuesday, March 21, 2006

It was 11:44 and I

It was 11:44 and I,
having wasted so much of God's good day,
decided to leave;
walking down
the old boat trail,
hard packed snow
where the dogs go
under brambled bush
by rusted pump.
Between the river Red
and iron beds,
of Riverview,
there 'twas I
and did espy
a quinzee
perhaps abandoned by
some crazy man,
but I
entered, crawling
polar child
earthly wild,
wrapped in warm sheets
of snow
I died.

Monday, March 20, 2006

There are Blue Lambs!

Let me tell you about my delightful weekend! Friday I dug up an old two by six from the church basement to use as "The Fence" (shh). And there we washed potatoes and found black things inside some. Saturday I went to Jason & Destiny's for a pre-pre-natal-diem supper for Debbie. Peter Fast was there as well. Yum! We ate some barbecued chicken with cheese in teriyaki sauce. And we reminisced about the time after a Reach for the Top tournament when we cashed in all our free french fry coupons at each fast food restaurant and ate them from a full greasy bag. After this the lot of us went to C&C at Kevin and Becky's where we talked about the new heaven and the new earth and transparent gold and a tree that surrounds the river. Do you know that the new Jerusalem was measured to be as big as the entire western half of the united states? Of course with this knowledge we proceeded to play a great round of Pass the Pigs (one of my favorites) when I got a leaning jowler and was happy. Then we played Last Chance, but I always forget Last Chance strategy when I don't play for a while, and I had very little money. But fun! And Sunday I woke up early and did sound for Cody's music practice, and then I planned to go home and get ready for church, but some missionaries from northern manitoba were talking during sunday school hour so yeah, i had to do sound for that too, and then church started and it was good, and then after we had our Spring Tour fundraising dinner, during which Cody and I went around with guitars to serenade tables. And here is some of the requests we played:
- You are my sunshine
- Barney's "I love you"
- u2's beautiful day
- happy birthday in jazz
- yellow submarine
- i'll fly away (like 3 times, once with a key change mid way)
- skinamarinkydinkydink
- mary had a little lamb (blues version)
- and many more - a CD to follow!

Tuesday, March 14, 2006

Draw Your Own!

There are notices up in the apartment:

-Was left on the front step with a
Black & White Jacket
-Full of Clothing
-Saw a person
put on the jacket,
walk inside with the

Another notice in the laundry room:

Have you ever had a favorite pair of jeans?
Well I used to, but they were taken after I
left them in the washing machine.
Please return them, you don't know how much it means.

Looks like someone has sticky fingers... Sooner or later we'll be standing outside and that person will come up to us and say:

"Nice pants."
"I said, give me your pants!"

Do you know that I just pulled out a long hair that was nestled between keys on my keyboard?

On Sunday afternoon I went to play poker with a crazy collection of local youth:

Christopher "Drummer" Dueck
Brother Shane
Brenden Friesen
Chris "Auger Boy" Dueck
Michael Brandt
Thomas Remple

Is this not a fascinating combination of people? We played around Michael B.'s pool table, and the effect was rather charming.

We started a B side after people were eliminated from the A side game. And we made nasty comments to the other group and stole their Lay's Stackers. When Christopher went to heat up some pizza from M.B.'s freezer the last of the pepsi's was taken. It turns out he picked a tomato pizza which was apparently
"Very Old!"
And so I gave him the last 20% of my Pepsi, but he had to get me a glass of water, and then he drank the pepsi in one sip, and laughed at his foolish life.

Well, I thought I got my car fixed, but take note that it did stall a few more times. Granted, I was trying to turn around on parking lots at odd angles, but it still is a little haunting.

Yesterday evening we went out to eat at Daly Burger, which is on Corydon and run by (judging from the pictures of the acropolis on the walls and his striking accent) a jolly Greek man who looked like Victor from Vidir(Dmitri's dad). There were several layers of music going on inside the restaurant at the same time: curling commentators for the Manitoba/Sask game on TV, classical piano music from CD, and a Creed song off of Weathered. An auditory jungle! The burgers also have several layers at once, including a spread of chili and some limp, chili doused, pickles. They are overall tasty, though!

Now I will end without a conclusion.

Monday, March 13, 2006

Be bop be bop be bop be, one bird sits in a lonely tree

*This post will be more enjoyable if you snap your fingers along with the simplistic words.

Walked outside
it was white
there was snow
snow is bad

filled the boots
filled the air
filled the swing
as I swung
filled the mind
filled the mind
do do do

got a ride
to Paul's house
went inside
talked about
the end times
ate some cheese

then we got
the scrabble board
tried not to start
a holy war
twice the words
twice the fun
I spelled BIFFED

then was Paul
with AZUL
and Jason
dropped an UG
which we still
don't think
is a word.

Saturday, March 11, 2006

All To change, All To destruction

Dark is the dragon
that sticks in his tongue
that sticks his tongue into the wound.

And I am: that dragon, that vile wyrm - built of scales bronzed in the kiln of ancient suns, & wings stretched from the flesh of those infants whom were thrown over the walls when I approached the castle. Mother's hoped they could be saved. Yet I around the castle looped, sliding upon my burlap belly until I found my other end. Between my own teeth I held my tail and then pulled back, contracting, the walls of the castle crumbling, then, with my labour, fell.
Thursday: deep underground a gas line fissures. Women run screaming from their stations and police men divert the traffic down Brandon Ave. My home. Some say the cloud of gas is spreading, and I sit, trapped inside the house labouring on a presentation due tomorrow, planning for house church, and reading Atwood's "Hairball". When it is time to leave I think nothing of the fact that the gas may still be leaking, the road to Confusion Corner still closed, knowing I can always go down Jubilee.

Jubilee is a drain completely clogged with hair. My car, having troubles at low speeds recently, stalls every time I come to a stop. People are honking, waving, wondering why I would want to stop in the middle of the street during rush hour. But there is no way to communicate with them. We are all mimes trapped in glass cubes of our own design. When I finally get to Stafford, I stall just as I turn the corner. An angry van revs up behind me. Not wanting to ruin the day of any more people, I decide to take the punishment myself, cranking the unpowered steering wheel like a butter churner in order to turn into a parking lot. Once I restart my car I realize that the way out is a one way street that leads back to Pembina, down to Confusion Corner. After half an hour of horrid toiling in the car, I arrive at a place a minute from my house. By the time I reach Jeremy's house I am frustrated and exhausted: destruction is inevetable. For a while I forget about the troubles ~ there is spaghetti with cheese sauce and good coffee. I sing some of my favorite songs and the bible study is interesting. There is drawing on a cup. I forget until tomorrow when I wake up in fear of a terrible presentation, when in my haste I park along the Markham road in the muddy snow, when I struggle to print handouts on the old fashioned printers in St. Paul's, the ones with the dotted stripe down the side that you have to tear off, when, returning to the car I find a parking ticket for more than I can afford after four months of having money eaten away by moths and rent payments, and no work to help out.
There is nothing left of the outer wall now. The rubble has fallen on those inside; their legs stick out of it like pins from a pincushion. I slither over to the courtyard, where I still find life. Underneath the boughs of a giant tree sit the prince and his lady, seemingly unawares of the collapse of the walls. Sweet apple blossoms cover them ~ statues in the snow. I am content to watch for a while. Watch. Watch. But the game gets old. In a second I burst down from the tree, snatching the poor girl up between my teeth while the prince stands by, silently. Is he dumbfounded or relieved? And there in front of him I eat her, let the juicy marrow trickle down, a shower.
I am reminded of things beyond this when I hear screaming. The castle has taken fire! Great clouds of smoke billow forth from the ruins, cooking those pinned below. The mighty castle has fallen, and a dragon shall be crowned king. Soon the giant tree is burning, burning blossoms now fill the air. There are darts of fire, then blazing bales: meteors from above! And sure - the ground is burning ~ all the grass and sheep and even dragons! I have caught fire! First on the paper-thin wings and then tail and then soft underbelly ~ now too the eyes burst forth and the crown melts. And then, falling backwards into the burning tree, I expire!
Tomorrow night after the walls have fallen, I will find myself sitting in a hottub in the country, with soft lights from a red and white painted barn before me, the white frozen wind around me, and the country stars above me. But today fly the snowballs, and we are utterly untrenched. We run around as scavengers, trying to stave off the inevitable defeat. Down drops one, then down drops another, then I drop down to look at something reflecting on the pavement underneath the giant billboard and city sky: a small pile of bronze scales. I drop my change in a bowl and go home.

Thursday, March 09, 2006

The Rambler No. 4

Now the town melts away, now melts the town away, now away the town melts into a puddle of black leaves. Am I finding less things are happening? Is this why I have to write like this? Yesterday morning I woke up at ten in the morning. But I made it a good day by singing "The World is a Vampire" on the way to school. Why would you want to read this? Do you think my life is interesting? I'll tell you about class. We talked about Marxism and laughed that the capitalists have us under control so that we feel really rebellious when we wear the Che Guevara t-shirts and pink baseball caps - yes, we paid for them! And then I went to Logic class where I talked to the philosophy girls that hadn't been there for a while. This class is funny: this whole semester there have never been more than 5 people in the room. I should get working on it, i should get working on the -- railroad! Maybe, maybe, its time to put up a poem that I'm working on. It's going to be in a chapbook put out by our creative writing class. You can buy a copy from me for $5. It will be worth it. You can reserve a copy by simply posting a comment. You can also comment on the poem. I think I'll work on it a little more, so give me tips.

Give Us, O Bones, an Anthem
Adam Kroeker

Give us, O bones, an anthem
to provoke the Maple flag,
to give purpose to our triumphs,
forgetfulness to loss;
an anthem that the little child can play.

Keep strong the fearless soldier,
when he crashes on the banks,
when to the baritone bombardment
he adds his own refrain;
Refrain! Refrain! The children’s choir sings.

Here once a child playing,
building strongholds in the sand--
now to mine! and now to mortar!
onward press our nations’ men
--forgetful of the rising of the tide.

But we upon the beachhead
stare upon the score of men, holding guns
locked up with the cold that sing
an anthem that the little child can play.

Tuesday, March 07, 2006

I apologize in advance

Hello, my little peaches! Time to pluck you from the orchard. Yes! Let me get a ladder and a big wooden bucket. You are quite plump, and will sell for a good price in the market! Don't be ashamed -- you were born for this! Live it up!

There is a girl in front of Tim Hortons who is wearing a bit of a bedsheet down below and only some giant daisies up above. She is quite plump.

Trying to read "Housekeeping" but fall into the most beautiful nap right after the train flies off the bridge into the depths of the lake.

Yes. I think I hit a tasty spot.

But where does God end and the world begin?

Tell, me peaches - can't you speak?

Why do you think we have feelings about fictional characters? Are we stupid, childish? Do we believe them to be real people? I have my ideas. An essay topic, perhaps. But tell me what you think - talk peaches!

Green things grow on the cheese in the fridge, green things grow on the cheese. Black things grow on the plug in the bath, black things grow on the plug.

Oh! A pit!

Did I tell you I didn't like peaches?

Don't call me daughter!

Sick, lame, stupid fruit.

I read a book all day - fuzz face!
I played guitar all day - mush brain!

Take a look at the sky - and suck!

Monday, March 06, 2006

And there in the snow, a freshly covered footprint

It is a perfect evening in Winnipeg: heavy snow oh soft snow rests on the boughs of the evergreens, evergreens now white. The air is crisp, though mild while the night sky buttery soft, a tiger tiger ice cream. After garbage, river walk, I take the winding trail dusted powder, view of Red. Just returned from potluck meal, a meeting of house church leaders. We told old stories from the heart, drew up plans for coming year. March deserts of cream cheese & apple, and coffee that was maple. Then gowns, then suits, and giant bows, the academy awards are served with friends in basement lined with books. In the afternoon there were gifts, a nap on the small couch. Filling a cart with bread and salad. Lunch at three. We made a trip to the Mulvey market. Piled bodies of well-worn action figures, narrow lanes of lampshades and paintings. Friendly people who cannot organize. We arrived here from church, a morning at Elim chapel. Stained glass and cleansed hearts. Communion cups and crackers (where do they get the silver trays, an old warehouse downtown?). And bodies dead and storms and storms and hems of garments, healed! Botkin gives the message drives it down the giant organ pipes the wind a vent that opens, shuts, a choir and gospel favorites, a favorite, indeed.

Saturday, March 04, 2006

Not Even Plaster Shall Last

And I am exhausted! Just worked all Saturday demolishing the insides of an old house on Spence street: part of our Navigator's Work Day. It was a three storey (please tell me if I am spelling this wrong, for it is one word I have never known) house, from which the residents, likely some of the poorest in Winnipeg, had moved out just three days prior. There was still some furniture that had to be hauled out to the garage or dumpster. After this was taken care of, we attacked the walls with our crowbars and hammers, ripping off the chunks of hundred year old plaster. Then we destroyed the small plaster boards with sledge hammers! My favorite moment of the day was kicking through a wall on the main floor. This debris was collected into garbage cans, then brought out onto the roof where we had strung together a makeshift chute (have I ever told you that I love chutes?!) that led to the dumpster. The dust from the plaster being smashed and thrown into piles was as thick as a dustbowl sandstorm. Many great memories, especially the pizza lunch in the basement with the six foot ceiling. Yes, and then Ashley pulls out the omnipresent tripod and takes a picture, the warm light from all angles icing the dust on our faces. We look immortal.

Friday, March 03, 2006

plants Raised in the dirt of our hearts

When in a casserole, roll a watermelon! This is what Francesco says. He does not think it is good. There may be instructions on the internet for Brokeback Mountain. What is now? When is what? Look at this, after house church and Chelsea's horrible day, what does the syllabus tell me to read but "The Lives of Girls and Women"! I laugh for maybe ten minutes, though on and off. Are there italian I-pods? When in a casserole, roll a watermelon! What have I done? There are only wingdings left. I have gone to a Gregory Scofield reading at 9:30 in the morning. This was interesting. He read poetry about his metis ancestors, singing songs in Cree and yes, woo! And we have gone to eat supper at Burger King at 10:00 PM and I handed the new server $5 and she said "Excuse me, your total was $4.70"... "Oh..." and then I had to remind her I ordered a water. And then we asked the manager about the little yellow square people on the cups. She blamed it on the creative department. They cannot call it 'Indian Leather' anymore, now they must say 'Indian Suede'. And there are other things: wild events with my car stopping at random times, like in the middle of roads and in the toonie lot. And these are red on Saturdays. This is tomorrow. What left? When in a casserole, roll a watermelon!

Wednesday, March 01, 2006

Batter Up!

Well, dear readers, we have reached a special time, the time when holy days fall back to back: today is Ash Wednesday, and yesterday was declared Tuesday of the shrove. And though our protestant forefathers were not fond of getting their heads dirty, this time of year is important to me for one reason: Nav's serve pancakes in Campo! Our grill, the grill at the end of the line, manned by Melissa and I, often produced pancakes that were, shall we say, deep fried. We tried are best to mix in a little love into the batter and these are our creations (artistically rendered by Adam). Enjoy!