When they say you're
crazy.
Do they even know what they are saying?

To be insane is to literally be in the mindset of insanity.
You know yourself better than any Doctor,
Boss,
or and other
Higher up
that get's high
from bringing you down.

Here's a new word for y'all.

Unsane: (verb/noun/adjective)
Opposite of insanity.
Opposite of being insane.
Opposite of what they're trying to trick
you into thinking you are.

They're the insane ones,
we're just unsane.

When I passed into hibernation
My tastes began to sour
Birds of prey
And emergency vehicles seemed to attend

It's for medicinal purposes
I'm in hibernation again
For it's that time of year
I've left my blood under soup skin
And my mind's in books and pieces

Winter passes

Perhaps time to take on life once again
And the disease-beats in between ?

The seasonal change excites me
My heart beat increases
And returns to normal
My breathing quickens
My blood wakes me

The seasonal change excites me
My feet were turning black
My eyes were folded heavy
Now I'm flowing back
Victory !

My blood likes my limbs now
And I take in moisture through the skin
I lick my lips for the sensation
And my thought tilts with sin

I stretch to my full height
...but cramp up :
Hey !
This doesn't belong !

This is muffled
This is unsane !
I excercise my muscles
Then shrink back in pain
It's not meant to be ...
Hibernation once again.



Previously published [Show Thieves 2010 : An Anthology Of Contemporary Montreal Poetry - 8TH HOUSE PUBLISHING]

when no man pursues
the truth,

the idea which contains all true ideas, aha

ideas are ideas, roses roses, names names
all true
evil ideas are in the set of true ideas as
sure as pi is in the set of true numbers,

i think

When the wicked rule the people mourn,
I think

How are all ideas equalible?
How is any idea equalible quant wise re
(long turbulent selah, lts)
questing
help, this is a talking point.
(lts)
okeh. for the future, I see.

we can make these faster with ideas pouring
into words flowing from gentled
untame-ible tongues,
----- untame-able is not
----- untame-ible, this may be an object
----- ifier lesson

-tension that re
l-eases
silent
darts, bullets(silent kind), missles, hymns'n'such
pointy grippy handles for cud
chawn story points upon
which any true story
idea must stand.
in spiritarian.
addinph
unitem

spirit and image of your father.
ohmygawd
Ambush
Clam slam shut, swoohoosh
pop

The infer
(implication layer upon layer,
thicker and thicker
naquering laquering query, could be dem pearl-ly gates,
early version o' Feynman's reversible tristatic NAND gates,
which work on ideas harnessed...)

see, there's the rub. one wee tetrahedral
trypointy foursidy sort of pearl maker
with words made
conversation

verses
versus insane unsane saners saved
by grace unmazing ungnostic
mumbling glosalialy
knot knox nor any o'them
puritans detected the
leaven in the game,
the periment
let out the
box,

"a republic, if you can keep it." unsaid went,
we cast all our cares to the gyre giver
guiding the great gulf river of pro
sperity providing us
our perspicacity.

Would that one might see one day,
the outcome of our American
experiment in leaven
in forming idle words mit ganz alte wahrheit

in dem Erste Zepto Planck Sec

just now. The idea that won was thought.
Good think you think.
We shall see.
Call your truth true.
Stand under knowing good and evil,
both, how and why, then chose,

knowing, my side won.

. a sober me will do something akin to: listening to cabbage's song perdurabo from the album nihilistic glamour shots on repeat... reworking en plein air poetics: notes towards writing in the anthropocene (brian teare) - yes, the scribbly bits - and yes, the song on repeat... with an interlude for dinner, a movie (unsane): and about 10 minutes wrestling with a bottle of ***** in plain sight... after a movie like UNSANE? you wish for a drink to mule the whole plot of insanity on screen... but a reminder: i was working on something more important, wasn't i?

cultural darwinism: what could ever be
more than a history that is a history
         in etymology?
  
there is no proof of going up
bound to a ladder -

supposed "praxis":

well... i too was on the search for
an "etymology" of a script
that i'd be able to call: yore - yonder...

albeit not in            ᚷᛖᚱᛗᚨᛁᚲ
i thought i could not
have shared a genesis
                                 as that:

'as old in writing:
as in thought.'

something older,
so to my surprise: it does exist!

but reworking it
had to be known (at least to me) -

standard-bearer:
26... letters... from English /
Latin... script...

Ⰰ - A           Ⰱ - B          Ⰲ - W        Ⰳ - G
Ⰴ - D         Ⰵ - E            Ⰽ - K           Ⱄ - S
Ⰸ - Z          Ⰻ - I            Ⰾ - L         Ⰿ - M
Ⱀ - N          Ⱁ - O            Ⱅ - T         Ⱆ - U        
Ⱈ - R           Ⱂ - P            Ⱇ - F          Ⱌ - C    (20)

exceptions:
                              X

other exceptions?
                             graphemes...
which will be included...

20 letters... minus X:
                         minus V... or...
when d'aal...

                 Y....  and H... and J

Ⱘ - Y          
Ⱓ  - Ju   

the closest i've come to is...
well... Greek has 24 letters...
who says that anything less is...
"uncivilised"?
Hebrew... that's 22 letters...

Ⰰ - A           Ⰱ - B          Ⰲ - W        Ⰳ - G
Ⰴ - D         Ⰵ - E            Ⰽ - K           Ⱄ - S
Ⰸ - Z          Ⰻ - I            Ⰾ - L         Ⰿ - M
Ⱀ - N          Ⱁ - O            Ⱅ - T         Ⱆ - U        
Ⱃ - R           Ⱂ - P            Ⱇ - F          Ⱌ - C    (20)
Ⱘ - Y         (21)              what's needed,
in all honesty... is... something to balance
laughter on... a H...   ah...           Ⱈ - ch...

which brings me onto the graphemes...
some are missing:
some, depends on your orthographic
taste, in the context of Western Slavic...
you'd be making orthographic
mistakes:
personally?
   if you're going to bother marking
an S with an acute sign...
you might as well allow the S caron...

ergo?

a list of graphemes
and diacritical individual markers:

Ⱎ - Š
Ⱔ - Ę
           which makes Ą missing...
Ⱍ - Č
                       Ż is missing...
   no, no mirage... je suis sam...
Ⰶ - Ź...

or at least this is a sketch of what
i would inherit from proto-slavic...
high-slavic?
   that's the ogonek on the A and
the E... no caron above the vowels,
an an orthographic pedantry of
either U or Ó...

there's already a name for
all of this: i just didn't know where
to look!
- and i was looking at it
to begin with!
  well... what seems like...
modulating what would
have been the equivalent
of: runes...

the glagolith, the bukvitsa:
h'ieronymian...

or mine:                    gadanina
since there's no Ł
   to write out:   słowo (word - swovo)

- looks like we now know
the "problem" of the H, I and J...
here and there: erroneous leftovers of
etymology... scraps...

    and... no one thinks that
the English language has... "too many"
letters?

Ⰰ - A           Ⰱ - B          Ⰲ - W        Ⰳ - G
Ⰴ - D         Ⰵ - E            Ⰽ - K           Ⱄ - S
Ⰸ - Z          Ⰻ - I            Ⰾ - L         Ⰿ - M
Ⱀ - N          Ⱁ - O            Ⱅ - T         Ⱆ - U        
Ⱃ - R           Ⱂ - P            Ⱇ - F          Ⱌ - C  
Ⱘ - Y         Ⱈ - (c)H
                    
       certainly the graphemes
  (Ⱎ - Š, Ⱍ - Č & Ⰶ - Ź...
but there's a missing...
                               grapheme
for the je suis! Ř or Ż
   Ⱔ - Ę)...

apparently i need:
                                 Ⱑ - ja
after all..

so... how does one test this out?

   ⰘⰅⰡⰀ!
               ⰏⰀⰏ
                           ⰐⰀ
           ⰋⰏⰋⰤ
                          ⰏⰀⰕⰅⰖⰞ

a day's "hobbying" just to end up
writing something like that...

last revision:

Ⰰ - A           Ⰱ - B          Ⰲ - W        Ⰳ - G
Ⰴ - D         Ⰵ - E            Ⰽ - K           Ⱄ - S
Ⰸ - Z          Ⰻ - I            Ⰾ - L         Ⰿ - M
Ⱀ - N          Ⱁ - O            Ⱅ - T         Ⱆ - U        
Ⱃ - R           Ⱂ - P            Ⱇ - F          Ⱌ - C  
Ⱘ - Y         Ⱈ - H           (Ⱎ - Š          Ⱔ - Ę
Ⱍ - Č          Ⰶ - Ź           Ⱑ - ja)...

  i.e.: there are still only 22 letters...
                    Ł does exist:
like any diacritical mark in modern Russian...
look at it!
                         Ⰾⱏⰹ...

                         БЛЫОTO

душкa душкa!     Мишa...

              Ⰻ    ⰜⰑ

                       Ⰸ         ⰕⰅⰃⰑ?

it's almost like,
i remember those guys from
school, who would sneak out
on weekends
at night, to scribble graffiti;
wherever it was,
or wasn't,
   i sure as wasn't:
                the ever studious
faustian archetype...

      tzn.:
                    ⰖⰝⰑⰐⰨ
                                      ­ⰕⰖⰏⰀⰐ!
here...
            here's my graffiti...
but... ha ha!
here's an idea...

  how about....
how about!
    people get those ****** Chinese
worded tattoo written off their skins?

I don't know what to say. I went into this not knowing what to say. I know it already yet I can feel a pound in the back of my skull very upset I have no real clarifying words for the things draining my head.

Am I empty? I don't know. I hate days where I feel like I know nothing and existence is a far off concept that seems alien to me. I can stare at my hands and pick up my fingers and type but for some weird reason they don't feel like mine at all. Is my body just like the land? Everyone tries to make a claim, but it belong to nothing but mother earth. Or perhaps, in my own hapless metaphor, it means I own it? I may have written myself into a corner. Perhaps this body is really mine. Just wish I could feel it. Every touch feels so dull and odd and foreign. I don't like feeling foreign.

Nothing's really being weighing yet a can feel my back bending, the muscles sore and tender from a weight I didn't realize they bear. Are they actually feeling the imaginary weight that eats my head away or are they just so very tired too? I understand if they're tired. I'm so very tired too.

I don't want to say I'm out of my mind, though, no. Not even with the oddity that are my nerves and skin. I'd rather say out of my head; I'm not unsane and I'm not deadly I'm just tired and worn and strewn across myself in such a fashion that my favorite limbs feel so strange. Perhaps because they can still function while the rest of my feels other-
wordly.

I've lost them. There were enough words swimming in my head to send them every which way but now I seem even too tired to keep my eyes open to see them. I feel out of my head. I know it won't last, and that keeps me sane. But it doesn't make me feel whole again.

There’s rarely any joy
Left in leveling the playing field
**** or be killed
And the world doesn’t want a shield
Only to sleep and to work
For the end
To live by the dollar
And die by the trend
To defend them would be
My existence’s
Honor
But I covet peace
Like a kami wind bomber
Just pondering all of the dreams
That they squander
The people they slaughter
These true men in ruins
Of Frankenstein’s Monster
A Las Vegas concert
A Wild West myth
I pack write lightning heat
Like a Mustafar Sith
But this Vader comes later
To savor the darkness
Within the machine’s
Pax-American carcass
Of ravenous Reagan’s
Who’d let your kids starve
And contain the unsane
To fund wars in the stars
Don’t you see?
It’s the same tricky dixiecrat reaper
Delusional geezer
The neo-Liberial pyramid schemer
Who still thinks illegal is Spanish for dreamer
And trains Contra dogs
For some searches and seizure
Misogyny cowboy
Digs coal in a hole
His cash flowin’ like oil’s
Re-standardized gold  
As the livestock in rot market’s
Shelves gettin’ old
As they waste away youth
With MAD weapons they hold
Convincing us greed
Is salvation of soul
Until even the “good” neighborhood’s
Hooked on Cold
Where the story unfolds yet again in my favor
Just penned in the blood of the winning side’s slavers

was a ratty/rainy time with rats falling like rain on my picnic table
with the broken benches. I swam to you (in a dream) as you were
returning a bikini to Walmart, which they refused to take back
because of their unsane no-returns-on-underwear-policy.