I was thinking about myself as an artist. How poetry feels bone deep in me. If my bones were transparent I like to think of them as having words tattooed all over them. I began to consider oracle bones. 3000 years ago in China, questions of the day were inscribed onto bones. It was thought the spirit world would divine answers. I sourced bones at Summerhall in their old attic. I began engrave them using a Dremel. The smell was awful. I learnt to clean the different layers. Carve out space. I painted them black. I used gold and the nib of a pen to build up droplets. I wrote poetry onto the bones. They became a collection. The gold should be lit by candle in a dimly lit space so you can feel what it is the bones have to say. This is similar to the Japanese tradition of kintsugi. I love these bones. Painting & engraving altered their aesthetic. I see the swoop of a shoulder more clearly. Poetry is bone deep. I believe this. I wanted to find a way to physically make it show.