(of the asylum)
The find lay on the northwest side of a rocky hill and one of the first things found was the partial skeleton of a man, half buried in the snow and ice. The body appeared to be leaning against the hill. The skeleton had been disturbed by bears, and much of the upper part of the body was missing, but a monogram on the jacket identified the body as being that of Andrée. There were worn out boots on his feet and close by was a gun, cooking utensils, an axe, and a primus stove. The stove had oil in it and, when tested, seemed to be in good working condition. In the pocket of the jacket were a diary, a pencil and a pedometer (Kansas City Star, 1930). The pages of the diary were sealed together by the glue which had dissolved and re-frozen over the entire booklet and could not be opened.
--Horn, G.(1930) The Bratvaag expedition discovers the camp. In Andree's Story: The Complete Record of His Polar Flight, 1897 - Boy's Edition. NY, Blue Ribbon Books, Inc. pp. 163-184.
pending, currently under evaluation:
a bonnie prince billy cover (45/92)
circus.
It all began with the bees.
It all began with the bees.
That cursed day.
Soon after
she started returning home
late from work.
One night
I noticed residue of pink and blue
marshmallow in her hair
but said nothing.
After she'd gone to sleep
I looked in her bag - I'm not proud of it -
and found a solitary,
white feather.
A keepsake, no doubt,
of her wretched deceit.
I decided to follow her,
I walked behind her through streets
- nameless, old -
as day turned to night,
and the dew.
No more than forty steps between us.
No more than thirty-five steps between us.
And not once did she turn.
And nor did I call out her name.
And somewhere the sound of
a circus playing, of hay and despair.
The smell of elephant shit
and childhood.
And so I bury my head
in your hair at night. My dear.
While you sleep, I listen
to the little tiger humming
in your gut.
Humming, cursing, singing.
We're one, love is good, where you go,
I will follow.
