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.

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.

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