Bloodied Beaks on Pelicans’ Isle

A short poem of a man in search for his date of death

On a rocky shore a small ship lands and sinks beneath the waves

And from the wreck a man emerges by his fortune saved

And he bows his head 'fore an army of white birds with beaks of blood

As tall as men and talking of the thunderbird above

‘I sail from the south, to the isle where the pelicans, they say



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J. W. Barlament

History, politics, religion and the rest. Told with nerve and without reserve.