secret interference

aaron boothby // poet living in montréal // 

Aaron Boothby lives in Montréal and writes things resembling poems.

The nearest sensation to working with language is a video of Andy Goldsworthy making sculptures with icicles. A long icicle from the overhang of a rock or of a tree that is broken into fragments, each bit with teeth, melted with mouth and tongue, fused together into spirals and circles.

It's how the interior is both a desert and a listening post.

An encounter with the strangest things in their threads of differences pulled, affirmed, heard. The colours that bloom out of the deserts of texts. 

So what is Secret Interference? It’s a clandestinely recorded tape. It’s voices talking and transmitting orders and counter-orders on September 11, 1973. Voices we’ve vaguely heard at some point in our lives, but to which we aren’t able to attach a body, as if they issued from forms without substance. Voices that are echoes of a nebulous fear located in some part of our bodies. Imaginary ghosts. A real fear, and also a vulgar fear.
— Roberto Bolaño