most humans communicate according to a more or less agreed upon and unreflected code of emotional politics, this language of the discarded mirror. communication if it would break (de- and recreate) the commons – that is if it would become itself through becoming not itself, this apophatic reengineering – might follow codes of mutually incomprehensible vision, each visionary with its own distinct zeitgeist syntax (zeitax – language as time art, a time handle, spirit sensuality), the learning of which requires an education outside
outside what?
outside prepositions?
but language somehow has stepped in and said – i can translate (not only from vision to language but language to language and then from language to vision) … an unviable claim and one that ridiculously we must believe, those of us for whom the standard and imposed code of emotional politics is inefficient, unrepresentative, bellicose
the horror of covid far less the viral invasion of humanity, any socioeconomic collapse, the inability to travel or hang out in cafes or bars, but the (radically more virulent) attack of the news, which has invaded massively everywhere, making the biological virus seem like a failed startup. these wretched catastrophes of protestated unity, love, novelty the news cums on us like a molestation, dankly
news drives out poetry, out further than its out before. and where does poetry go in this essentialized wholesale genocide? where can it be exiled from exile?
we're exiled from nature
covid calls us back
covid calls us back
but is it no novel virus but some poem?
a genre in which i write : leviticana. for some aims to be as tedious, convoluted, obscure as leviticus … arcane unlaws for the possdisessed
we need to begin imagining imagine (imagination, imagining)
we begin by change its a and 2 i’s to long vowels, its e to a schwa, its g to hard (in imagination the 2 a’s and 3 i’s to long, the t to hard, the final i and o pronounced separately and the on pronounced as the preposition; in imagining the 1 a and 3 i’s to long). imagine has too long been unimaginative
the age of collective desuetude moves into the tent of the human and makes itself at home in the sleeping bag of the small
humans calling the corona period this terrifying time. it’s terrifying only because humans like you weren’t calling time terrifying before this terrifying time …
as with naming various events/changes/closures unthinkable, unprecedented. if you hadn’t thought this already, if you were incapable of thinking this, what kind of embarrassment are you to intelligence? if you experience these minor disruptions as unprecedented, what viral disaster are you to spirit?
the media headlines (now more than usually apparent due to the odd and false unitary focus of content) manifest themselves as a fluvial polypolarity of mind – this thought, that feeling, that thought, this feeling, this possibility, this possibility closed, … that panic’d collective mind racing around itself trying to grasp a ground … the content runs through sectors of futures like a dissettled cat exploring a new or reconstituted (that newold, this derefamiliarized) space
once humans move into the middles or centers of capitalism – whether in the industries called healing, education, military (it matters little) [and what devotion, madness, discipline are required to not move] – they have the opportunity to legally and legitimately (often rewardingly, approvingly) apply the exploitation and force they’ve had applied to them illegitimately (illegally, exploitatively) often forcefully, prior to the moving. the smile and its language prosthetics as a liturgy of these applications
reading articles designed to stop me from suiciding (the corona-suicide link) typically increase my desire to suicide. they fit comfortably into the psychotherapeutic discourses serving the interests of the normals and all these apparati and languages to those of us unable to conform orand disliking immensely (to the point of nausea) the contortional acts of attempting to conform yet more bullying from the tyranny of normals culture (a wearisome irony being that some of this effort is, from the normals’ pov, trying to help [though even often as a mobic and fearful act]) … all this does is depress further, showing yet again how incapable they are of understanding our biology, even as they are the biologies of other living systems (other than trying to force change, whether violently through chemicals or violently through social pressures and bullyings – which they call kindnesses – of languages and systems ... into their kind)
what design!
to be kind
to be kind
counting death. living episodes of transition, movement as home. from here to here. the day as a number in the mathematics of death. a calculus of the corpse
much heard much to doo
words are lent like potato chips
as the vine is wine
and spent in time
and time like words
just rhyme with crows
or quips or herd jejunity
