Johnstone’s organ Honeybee cell phone, set to airplane mode Great hairy hands of the sky clapping out this language:
Slugs – lie down, be drowned in beer, cut in half with these rose scissors Pigeons – your feathers make foul house slippers Vermin – I’m shaking the blood coagulating seed rattle Mosquitos, Fleas, Bedbugs – I’m fashioning world teeth to snip you clean severed Dirty street Cats – antifreeze milk bowl and a fan belt trap, I watched you being dragged to the dump by a bit of string
what more can I say Elephant tusk incense huffed deep from the great nose in the sky
I am fashioning an anti insect mandala
Moth Chladni on body stained sheets
wine bottle Mole corridor
Squirrel post blocker
and a gold leaf pheromone trap in the closet
The signals coming in from the great blue rubber jaw listening station deep at the bottom of the barrel it reads: gone gone gone,
The squelching mud-pit gumboot on the rise sucking on the origins of the world.
In Lady with Gull, Peanut butter steps, World Antacid, Ashes Withyman has planted antennae. The communicative function of these objects will not necessarily produce significant results; like the agonising wait for the cosmos to give us signs of alien life, this waiting-time alludes to the possible encounters between man and animal. Like an insect mandala or an affective trap, these masts amplify a system of mental projection, creating a field of inquiry between notions of nourishment and harm. A listening station deep at the bottom of the barrel to draw out the origins of the world?
