Altin DeRenart

A scanned image of a sketchpage. The early life cycle of a wolf is depicted in drawings and text: "Take a wolf." [a quadrupedal wolf.] "Make him bipedal." [He is standing on two plantigrade legs.] "Dress him in clothes from the department store." [He wears pants and a rugby shirt, one leg propped up on a small box.] "Give him a 20 year long interdisciplinary education." [He is seen as a high school math student, looking at a wall clock while using a graphing calculator. As a college student, timing the movement of a film development can. As a graduate student, looking at mortarboards being tossed in the air.] "He is now ready to go outside!" [He is once again on all fours, albeit still in bidepal form, wearing kneepads and a harness which reads "MASTER'S DEGREE- OK TO PET."

outside wolf

Heard the rapture’s coming… where’s the part where I get to yiff in hell??

You’re inspiring me to give Robert Carver’s “O Bone Jesu” another listen. Written for nineteen voices, it features shocking, evocative dissonances.

Glad to know others are aware of Schmitt.. we are having our article 48 moment

When is science gonna give me injectable foxtradiol 😮‍💨

I’m gonna buy one of those large dog beds… for my study.. for me!!

Will update with pics

One in Three in One Returning turns, goes out and then returns, unto self again, He proceeds, receding—inviting by withdraw, As waves that lap and love the crags that lap and love and leave, To lap and love and lap again...

A new poem!! Hope you like the dialects of water 🌊

[Here I explore the divine Eros, anagogē and katagogē, and unity of the One, all told through the immanentist allegory of water.]

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Happy Juneteenth!!

Thank you for all of the above! I think I can now make a good start at self-affirming my own Foxiness with some direction.

Epistemically, I am animalized under capital, so I share that with the rest of creation—but that isn’t species affirmation.

I miss sleeping outdoors, enjoying the birds and squirrels work through the trees near my appartment.

In English—Altin is blue. He doesn’t feel very fox-actualized of late.

Also, I need to re-therianize my diet and leave behind the produce of a harmful, colonial agro-ecology.

I need ways of expressing and feeling my Therianthropy that aren’t commercial market-goods.

I’ve moved home to Ohio and left Philly behind for medical reasons.

Since leaving to restore my health, I’ve at times felt the kin distant.

Beyond hiking—how can I by act better affirm my animality?

Performing the egg ritual wrong is how I was transformed into a fox

Bellah's Play When foxes flee And wolves take leave And rust’ling brush falls still— What sounds escape The quiet growth To glide upon the wind? But sparrows bed And burrow hares And trees their leaves put off— In ...

*Yip yip yip yip yip yap yip yip yop rererrrrrreeeeeaaaaahhhhhhhh*

I’ve just published my new poem, “Bellah’s Play” on Substack!

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I’m a fox trapped in a Deleuze trapped in a Guattari (I go from screeches to propositions back to screechy propositions)

I’m not a visual artist but I have the same relationship with writing. I’ll be balling out on research and planning and then go cold on writing. The best advice I have is the 15 min rule. Start a 15 min timer and begin work… just for 15 min—and then stop. Work in small, tolerable intervals.

This is it, the first American state-mandated pogrom of the twenty-first century. That’s what this is. That’s what I’m calling it. No person is ‘illegal’.

It’s completely insane that US troops are illegally deployed to suppress domestic opposition and it’s not uniformly condemned by the press and political elite.

Altin DeRenart | Substack

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These are crimes. They're committing crimes. And when people understandably protest the fact that they're committing crimes, they're shooting flashbangs at them.

These days are long And the nights? They linger Like smoke in the beams Of his unfinished basement And what remains? In ashen times But birdsong in winter And dawning at dusk And rainfall in August And sundry, deathless lies? These days? They are long And these nights? They linger Like hiding black threads In his silvering hair And what remains? In greying days But times made timeless And verses unsung And works unauthored And sundry, halted truths? These days? They are mine And the nights that follow Fall to me, the same Where I might break, in better days His silence at the keyboard To read and play, in timely tune: The rose that Springs in winter And lands which know no dusk And forward-lilting, metered pace And sundry, latent gifts.

Oh my my, kits! The new Altin poem just dropped:

Day 7 of Pride Month

Altincore ❤️❤️ I love this sm

With the state finding new ways to founder everyday, owing to the sheer wicked idiocy of those at the helm, I am tempted to say that life does indeed mimic art at even the largest scales…

“The Government of the United States of America is not, in any sense, founded on the Christian religion." — 1797 Treaty of Tripoli, unanimously ratified by the US Senate, signed by President Adams

Comments like Johnson’s are what happens when you ban books instead of reading them.

From: A Deer of Nine Colors (1981), dir. Qian Jiajun and Dai Tielang, Shanghai Animation Film Studio

This is evocatively beautiful enough as to draw my tears

These are wicked days

(it’s in the open now… usually we at least half-ass cover up our international fascism… not this time).

Came out as gender queer to my mom today. She is so based—I love her to bits 😭

If you see this, I IMPLORE you to post a picture from whatever device you're using without explanation.