When power loses its mind

Peasants work the wormy dirt

Latin died because 
power lost its mind.
Peasants, far flung,
and oblivious
work the wormy dirt
harrowing, turning, 
chewing up and spitting out
vulgar transmogrifications.
Each single body 
shouts transcription
across the furrows
through changing winds.

Crusty robes in dusty halls
fluttered and rushed and fell, 
trying to grip both
tomorrow and yesterday 
in one clawed hand.
Sand slides through.

Meanwhile,  
en los frondosos bosques 
de Galicia
a rotten log draws 
tender shoot from seed --
sulle dolci colline verdi 
della Toscana
grapes heave on the vine -- 
et des falaises abruptes de craie
de la Côte d’Albâtre
a lonely gull carries word. 

---

“Firewood becomes ash, and it does not become firewood again.
Yet, do not suppose that the ash is future and the firewood past.”

-Dogen Zenji

Poem 6 of 31 in the series “The Liminal Season.”

Today’s prompt is the word “modify” from my oldest (!) errr, I mean LONGEST friend, Meg. I opted to use a synonym of the word here — transmogrification — which means the act of changing into a different form, appearing as a dramatic transformation or metamorphosis.

I have always been fascinated by how Latin died and became so many other languages and cultures.

If you want to go down a transmogrification pop culture rabbit hole (and you love Calvin and Hobbes), click the image below to hearken back to when Calvin turned himself into a tiger.

Thanks to everyone who reading along! I love your feedback!