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Rasputin
A video poem by bobie
Lichen which prospers on a ghost forest,
xylophagous insects walking through a maze of greedy galleries,
mossy trunks rotting,
antlers of the deer crowning his skull bleached by the rain and the frost,
drovers recycling turds,
moan of the crows,
rustle of the wings of the capercaillie,
mushrooms tasted by a rogue army of slugs,
wind which whistles in the somber canopy,
the crackle of branches, the echos of groans and loves,
fragrant mist, stealthy movements of preys and hunters,
carcasses eaten by myriads of starved maggots,
invisible scavengers, deep dens, carpet of needles,
dead leaves in humus
tumulus of the muddled roots,
tracks of the hoofs,
claws or feathers,
wallow of the wild boars,
flies and midges…
The intrigues of the palace seem unreal in these places abandoned by men.
The heavy volumes of history's chronicles
are only cellulose without the blood of chlorophyll,
wild cemeteries in the autumn's mist.
text, pictures and sound by Yves Bommenel © 2012