Predator 2, 1972, 15 x 21cms, ink on paper.
III. Predator 2
Earth incubates a dream of iron saws and jaws and hoists a totem to all predation. Or so say the geoengineers. The Ur-raptor’s egg answers with a promise of the fledgling, all Horus-eye, ditch-witch jaw and plier-claws. See, they cut themselves out of the Enlightenment – it’s not my fault, says the geo-excavator, stepping out nedkellyesque. I tried to be maternal, patterning myself on flight-feather, wheatsheaf, a quiet becoming, but still the killer beaks broke out of me, pecked out my better purpose. Within the long night of the dinosaurs I germinated, part-lizard, pterodactyl, platypus – you name it. How to escape the raptor’s eye and, so rapt in the germinative dark, to summon something soft to feather my nest-egg self?
