The CD is divided  into four sections for no other reason than to make it easier for

a detailed breakdown and clarification of the 

various  sound/text  pieces used to make up the complete work

Section A

00:00 to 01:42 Construction 12 (JW)

01:43 to 02:58  Laptop improvisation(JW) Voice(AR) Reading from his own written text.

Improvisation applies only to the sounds generated on computer.

There are NEVER any “streams of consciousness” when the voice is heard.

The words are fixed and all from Alex Rodgers written texts.

Their meanings are flexible.

02:59 to 03:41  Construction 13(JW)

03:42 to 07:05  Laptop improvisation(JW) Voice(AR). No title

07:06 to 08:51  Construction 14(JW)

08:52 to 09:45  Laptop improvisation(JW) Voice(AR). No title

09:46 to 11:28  Construction 15(JW)

11:47 to 13:22  Laptop improvisation(JW) Voice(AR). No title

00:00 to 00:03 silence


00:00 to 00:41  Laptop(AR)  “ununameur

00:42 to 04:42  Voice (AR)  ” Fingerlessly Asleep”

[at 02:52 sound (JW) added to original recording]

04:43 to 08:29  Construction 20 (JW) “BitFracModify

00:00 to 00:03 silence


00:00 to 01:10 Construction 17 (JW)

[ utilizing sound samples that were used in the following piece ]

01:11 to 02:53  Laptop improvisation (JW) Voice(AR). No title

02:54 to 03:17 Laptop improvisation (JW&AR)

[ heavily edited to function as a sound bridge to……………

03:18 to 05:07  Voice/Laptop (AR) “me washing’s all fucked up”

05:19 to 07:03  Construction 22 (JW) “Organ”

07:04 to 09:02  Voice/Laptop (AR)

09:03 to 09:31   Construction 23(JW)

00:00 to 00:03  Pause


00:00 to 00:50 Laptop improvisation (JW) Voice(AR). No title

00:51 to 02:04  Construction 34 (JW)

02:05 to 03:34  Voice/Laptop(AR)

03:35 to 03:58  Laptop improvisation (JW&AR)

extreme edit taken from 21.09.10 session.

03:59 to 04:19  Construction 24(JW) function as a sound bridge to

04:20 to 06:06 Voice/Laptop(AR) “Horn-ed” [Laptop(JW)added/edited in later ]

06:07 to 08:30 Construction 16 (JW) “8thru(metasin)”

in battledress

under cape.


deserted rookery nook.


cawing or whining.


arguing or roaring.


attention of any sort,

no skein or froth.

no hook or drill

no clue or


up thrusting,(no hole for ye either.)

no bolus

net or

scolds bridle

no lariat,noose,snare

not even any

‘come here’

on balance,

feets the notch

astride the perch


in rain

in branks

‘we have no licence’

you dont know unless you try eh?

Freedom reigns a miasma to stultify the them

and their steerage.  

Who they?

Them they.

You need light to pay,not to scratch.

The uniform fissure extends in the pall,

the bruised crucibles tethers tremble,

writhing with the mouth eh?

An hour an ‘e’,a month a hedge or fence.

What does it do?

You dump the ‘armchair’

‘You carried on your subtle debates’

Softly damning an archaic torrent..

No easy task.

Suspended Mammuthus,

horn of the tampon.

An unravelled ligature stuck on a wild thing.

Plugging snow.

Here lies,

the sport of our forebears.

Their teasing their landscape

‘rolling forward’

on their metalled trail,

(a socketed cityscape?)

To facillitate the sanctioned shedding

of light in play beneath

lowest combed pitch on

yellow we see.

Though deeper goes the pole,

upper ambergris in fungal wheals.

Subtle captive states of dull hue and that

A chance inconsequential dapple rises up to overhead.

But from a breech

an opening in their coated earth-

‘Here is your horn,your tooth your tusk,

Here through the punctum, through the encrusted hole.

Forbidden planets

fox on a heath.

Made grey in mist

slinks the briar and fence in air.

How its gait keeps artefacts from instances it  

lost a tooth.

That made its nose

what it is today


The fox,on the heath,in the rain,on the planet

Lattice of face accellerated in the halflight-

‘I remember you and you and you……………’

jean hebert

wavering,a cane,a wand

in wind,in rain

etched in gills

under                                                             citrus


brays,gums peeled

you know,asserting      sort of,

comes the horse in


the horse,nivir gone aloft though mad in the light.

says,brays it has things to say-

‘your teeth stamped out,kerb biting or

skeleton in dunes

with no fingers’

(how these stories play out on 



‘in repose’

wherein,miniature gesticulations as a degree,one of the degrees of ,er, loquacity a certain underdone

vista above and around ‘o.k.s’ and the ‘wanker’ as is done latin-

pulling at nose,

waving in town.

How about the squirming tongue bieng?-‘the seat of the self ‘-

bending back at brian to survey the calculus in the amygdullas own henge

‘henge all its own’


a frantic fitting in front of whosoever does the rules,an elaborate cowtowing,cap doffing

a balletic curtsey,over minutes 


Having ‘given ground’ 

what is there?

The steppe is interminable

I have looked and looked

having been ‘once great’

this afterlife is dependant on the 

brute paradigm paying out-its artifacts so ripe in me

and ripening even as I go out

the unscourged spurs

all knotted up

so affects the ‘other thing’

The they would say ‘the opposite of labour,as such’

always already

Mr Hughes moral hectors

bieng ‘subject to’

the whims of that without

the kernal that is ours

that ruins everything,’when appraised’-

your hump,

her hump,

their hump,

in wind,in rain.

At the foot of a menhir,

In repose in ones barrow,

A buildings concrete footings,

Asleep on a beach,

fingerlessly asleep.














The angle, you guess is dark.The faces,at right you find 

           (gravel on nail,the other one sharp-

                                           erm…… its not one!)  

arrested you.

This pipe!               

you are


and hooked,

                    through your tender nape

shingles or bristles


Like you fell for some faux muscular bunkum!

It was NOT you,you fell and don’t trust the middle.

Call it a ‘whirl’ or ‘squall’

a yaw too far for now,

                                  You could live without it! 

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