maybe that’s a weird thing to say.when i say interested i mean,i’ve compiled a list.on it are mourning practicesgathered across time & continents.it’s long & oddly comfortinghow no one knows a damn thingabout what follows. i won’tshare it with you, only say,evidence suggests neanderthalswere the first hominids to burytheir dead. also, i’ll say theydidn’t possess a written language,which points toward intermentas a form of document. the bodyis ink in the earth. the grave marker,a gathering together of text.the first written languages werepictorial & marked the movementof goods between peoples.i don’t know what to do with thatbut pretend death’s a similar kindof commerce: face stampedinto a coin, what’s left of the bodyin the belly of a bird, two linesthat meet to make a manalive again on paper. i know i know,ashes to ashes & all that dustto irreverent dust. i know everyonei love who’s dead didn’t actuallybecome the poem i wrote about them.their breath a caught fatheredobject thrashing in the white spacebetween letters. contrary to popularbelief elephants don’t actually burytheir dead, lacking the necessaryshovels & opposable thumbs. ratherthey are known to throw leaves& dirt upon the deceased & thisis a kind of language. often the tusksfrom dead elephants are scrivenedinto the shapes of smaller elephants& sold to travelers who might displaythis tragic simulacrum upontheir mantel as a symbol of power& of passage. when i’m gone, make me againfrom my hair. carry me with youa small book in your pocket.
