The Latin root of the words “corporate” and “corporeal” is “corpus”–the body of a person or animal, especially when dead.
Corporate: an association of individuals, created by law or under authority of law, having a continuous existence independent of the existences of its members, and powers and liabilities distinct from those of its members.
Corporeal: the body is real.
Derrick Jensen points out that in the worldview of western civilization, everything is dead, an arrangement of objects: animals, the lesser humans (all of us except you-know-who), forests, rivers, mountains. All objects: to be taken, destroyed, traded, consumed. Produced.
I feel this in my body, in my knowing, but how to start. Unravel this knot with just-right words. It is early March and I am too warm. There is a nest exposed, high in the treetop. In other spots of vision, buds popping. Daffodils. Hyacinth. Soon, tulips. The heat is speeding things up, a cookery, a crock of Davy Crockett, all the hero-worship. How they subdued the land. Davy Crockett was a Leo, proudly burning. The work of flames is to engulf, oil in the gulf, slicking down the feathers and gills. Everything all together.
I am researching the Texas Revolution and the Invasion of Mexico.
Disney brought Davy into 1950’s living rooms. American boys with coonskin caps.
Logic can’t be counted on. A dead kind of meaning-making. Dead like The West was said to be–empty, vacuum the dust to dust, burn the corpus of it all, down and down. Homeland Security border checkpoints.