In the Pole of Cold: List of Illustrations

John Bradley

A samovar is not a liquid coffin or spectral indwelling, 293

A shaman’s liver teaching geese the exits of the human body, 14

A typical hair telling a neighbor what to do in the event of attack by the Arctic Ocean, 37

An ice floe demanding to be chopped into small, useful blocks, 3

Apologizing to a deer for removing its marrow, 119

As is obvious from the photograph, I once made this mistake and carried it with me wherever I went, 278

Below you can see the sun stowed inside an uncertain stomach, 124

Black and white ink blend in the Pole of Cold, 321

Chewing on caribou tongue, which he nightly conjured, 135 

Far below the snow, you can see what it cannot, 63

Few still perform this three day mating ritual for the wheel of ice, 87

He swallowed a horse—not all at once—many times, 92

How often a pipe smokes the smoker’s smoke, 183

I named this sled dog Frozen Fish Arranged in a Crude Circle, 39

I never ate a raw fish I hadn’t first interrogated, 237

Inside this bird can be found a small iron stove, used by many a traveler, 72

It is necessary to believe whatever can fit into a boot, 28

June sky pulling someone above or below the tundra, 237

Late at night, I could hear teeth being ground into flour, 22

Light given off by clear egg that emitted no warmth, 377

Locals flavoring a corpse with the bark of a tree that is said to see only the right half of a visitor, 158

Locking a keyhole without a door, 321

No words can be eaten within the walls of this taiga church, 63

Said to believe only those who dip their tongue into a pot of boiling buttons, 349

Should you sleep upon a reindeer, you will not remember the manual of medicinal salt, 230

The skin of the white fox cannot be seen unless one has emptied his knife of all recorded sound, 68

This sled led me to a canoe, which led me to an axe, which led me to a bed, which led everywhere, 74

Unlocking a door without a keyhole, 44

Well heard by everyone:  White ink, black ink, on your right, on the left, 123

What is the moon, after all, but a mail station without mail or station, 105

When night sticks to your hands, 83