Artist Book ‘Visitors’

Jiri Tibor Novak & Gregory



The lamb of god is baaaing for guidance,

bleating fatty acids all over the land.

Guileless as weather it harries the yams,

herding women and children over the clifftop.

But now watch the innocence of the sheep’s

own tumble. Now here the heartbeat

beneath all the wool.

For who cries when the lamb of god dies?

Not the dreamtime ochres, definitely not the

longsocked shires.

Not the Greek gods either, smashing tectonic

plates full of oil and rosemary. Nor the

Romans’ Jove or old Moses fingering his

tablets in the sky.

Come on sheepy, its time to get local. Shed the

fashions of genocide, shuck all the icons,

fess up to your role as a friend of the poor.

Yes, time to show us the real ewe.






merrijig word & sound co.