Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse I am building a canoe of bones,it is mostly airtight with my dead bag skinstretching paper thin about it.I have found a way to proceed with my split-blister oar arms, to push and pull melike breath in the breeze;battling the current is a simple losing thing.I have wrapped nap sacks full of poetry, andlike a good railroad bum, Emily Bronte has taken hers