I invented a language
and made three words
to signify a boat:
Övvurbåt – when a boat is on top of the water
Ündderbåt – when a boat is below the water
Båt – when a boat is not on water.
But really, Cooper, what is a boat
when it isn’t on water?
Surely it isn’t still a boat?
It’s not a wreck either,
because that is ündderbåt
[and so are submarines
…………………………..which basically are floating,
…………………………..shipwrecks as a form of
…………………………..transport and nuclear
destruction]. I guess it is still a vessel
like my body will still have blood vessels
when I’ve dried up. And neither boat
nor blood will serve it’s purpose.
– Aaron Kent
I think of boats as the hardened gelatin
that makes pills from piles
and makes sure sailors aren’t dissolved
until they’ve gotten where they’re going safe.
Do you know those pill capsules
are made from what rises to the surface of the water
in which you boil bones?
It’s like if your coffin were an exoskeleton
protecting you from the earth until
it sent tendrils through the rot
and your body made it well again.
Though thinking this makes me wonder if the purpose of blood
and bodies and talking to your friends
were not a kind of drug thing:
the earth deprives its body of ourselves
so it can get first tension then release.
And you are an individual, with your own name to put on a ticket
to sit forever on a manifest (which I assume ships have
so that there is a sense of revelation
when the dead will all rise saved)
and when you board your coffin
and those who love you send it on its way,
it looks like sinking
but is really just a body
letting in a pill, a mouth swallowing the specific
word it made.
– Cooper Wilhelm