running with the dead (re)dux
3/7/2024 poem for privately public prompts
Cutting Words
3/7/2024, Con/Jur/d
The groundhog doesn’t know Maminia’s influence, the stories she told of seeing the bombs falling over Germany, near the displaced person camps, clustered at the edge, the decision made as she told it, by her parents who having been run by both the Russians and Germans preferred the latter, especially being landowners who hadn’t given Stalin his due -- Being young and beautiful the other refugees would share a book carried out and through, from the bottom of a canvas sack overflowing with clothes, toiletries, hard rye bread, miscellaneous ephemera the being-in-time thought important -- most likely written in Latvian although those uprooted people, in the days before empty carbs and GMO seed oils, were usually multilingual, tribes forced into the indignity of borders, with the attendant sycophantic nationalism, needing to always appease and defend the cultural worst of the worst, so it may have been written in German, Russian even English, after-all they hadn’t managed to uproot and sterilize on the Root Mothers yet -- there still remained the direct message (DM) to the Tribe of the Future with their interpreters and cultural attachés, who could go, who could ask, who would listen, and bring the necessary divinatory revisionings to the ‘adults’ -- of course, the kids were left in the dark, forbidden to approach the hut or cave or hermitage as long as it was built from locally hewed stone, filled with the local watershed’s mass and gravity, while the teens knew better, even under the influence of a double-dog-dare, to approach, unless it concerned premature acts of growth or other issues of blood -- it’s how our ancestors were forewarned and of their scattering and their eventual reunion -- after the Old Language was dead -- by the peculiarities of genetic drift and its interactions with geology, terrestrial and ‘other,’ having through the complexities of Brownian Motion and the General Laws of Chaos recombined Precambrian DNA and RNA in ways previously unseen on here, on this planet, unique mutations-- ecstatic permutations -- for example, we have been tested and found to have a high amount of Neanderthal DNA, potentially explaining our parents chemical attraction and reaction as well as our discomfort with the tragicomic, ongoing Homo Sapien series -- Mamina hid in cemeteries to read --: There was no reason to rebomb the previously rendered into constituent elements increasing the margin of safety from British and American and Russian Bombs -- She was relatively alone and was familiar with foraging for edible plants -- she’d always been attracted to the natural world later becoming a PhD plant pathologist -- cemeteries are like wild parks with an amusing and mysterious sculpture garden included, and although they like to deny it because of their mid-modern belief in the Panopticon powers of The Church, all those tribalists in the 30s and 40s were still ancestor worshiping heathens with a drunken Lutheran veneer to hide rooster sacrificing, cross-road whispering, bear worshiping ancient animist cult -- she would hide and read to waste away those days of storm and stress. With this revealed history, we chose the cemetery to start jogging after quitting smoking -- today, thinking we could use some nicotine after a 6-month break, distract ourselves, by considering cutting words, how the concept is translated from Japanese Haiku and Haibun to English, and how, at this point everything is an approximation -- haven’t run in the cemetery in several years, but you may have thought otherwise due to:
Woodchuck watches (out of) Iris edged long-hole (by) tombstone unread (us)
We’ll keep working on it!
Much love,
Con/Jur/d, 3/7/2024
The Japanese were big on last name jokes: on