April 13, 2026
20 Years after Vertigo
February 08, 2026
Fluents (dyslexia)
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| screenshot of Fluents (dyslexia) |
Fluents (dyslexia) Through his visit last year, Christian Bök introduced me to creative nexus Noah Pred, who had recently arrived in Porto from Berlin. Noah is a musician, and creative director and lead developer of Manifest Audio, a “unique ecosystem of integrated devices designed to expand capabilities for sonic artists of all backgrounds and styles on stage, in the studio, and beyond.” Many of his devices are focused on sonification: the process of converting different types of data into music and sound. You can check out Noah’s explorations of Manifest Audio’s powerful creative tools on the YouTube channel: Manifest Audio.
October 24, 2025
*rare as rubricators
*rare as rubricators.
It features five short poems: 'Et in Arcadia Ego', 'The Battle of Kohima', 'Identity', 'Pink Noise' and 'Hospital', plus extracts from Cantos LXXX (The Clowde of Knowyng), LXXXI (Urim Thummim), and Canto LXXXIII (Sociedade do cansaço).
It's a limited edition; email me if you'd like a copy.
June 21, 2025
Genius, Novel and Thoughtcrime
As mentioned in the previous blog, my focus has been away from public activity, while there’s been a lot going on. Now more settled, Barcelos and its surrounds has fast become the favoured location for our long-term residence. This year I had a notional schedule to blog the Text Festival anniversaries to lead into posts on my latest theories arising from that experience and dialogues in literature and current state of geopolitics. The first element of blogging happened but the Barcelos move left a bigger gap than I had anticipated. So, now to get back on track, ensconced paradisaically peripheral (a state which I’ve always preferred to occupy), I feel more inclined to insert a ‘progress overview’ before moving on to the meat of the matters – to paraphrase Louis Althusser, a theoretical text is affected in its modality and dispositive by practice. Where are we up to after my last update in 2023?
The Genius Cantos
The explanation of why I needed to take on Ezra Pound’s Pisan Cantos from a communist perspective can be found in the 2023 blog, but in the context of the impending global catastrophe, Pound’s location at the end of the Second World War makes this project more imperatively poised at the beginning of Third World War. As my first Canto (LXXIV) observes:
Blind. Silent. Jesus asked: is this resurrection?
Truth can only be half-said’
this is the war cantos
cadaver eyes upon me see … nothing,
USICA soaked
bring me the head of stupid
a world where Xi is synonymous Salazar - this ain’t,
warrior queens repurposed glossator utopias
Rome did shall perish in the blood she has spilt,
holding democracy in contempt, as we should
leech-gatherers.
Genius is still in progress; Cantos so far completed –
with their thematic dynamic – are:
LXXIV (The Axiom of Separation)
LXXV (Space)
LXXVI (Interiority)
LXXVII (The Marriage of Heaven
and Hell)
LXXVIII (In the spring and autumn)
Responses from a select group of trenchant readers and critics have been gratifying so far. Of the other Cantos, ‘Toussaint Rouge’, ‘The Clowde of Knowyng’ and ‘Toward Interregnum Closure’ being written concurrently and are all about halfway in:
LXXIX (Toussaint Rouge)
LXXX (Sociedade do cansaço)
LXXXI (Urim Thummim)
LXXXII (The Clowde of Knowyng)
LXXXIII (Incoherence)
LXXXIV (Toward Interregnum Closure)
One of the initiating factors for writing Genius was
its pivotal contribution to a projected sequence of novels, however, the poem’s
own epic logic and its obligation and objective to respond to the gathering fascistic
darkness in the world have intensified its independent urgency.
Poetry as Thoughtcrime
I have blogged about this contextually three or four times (Poetry as Thoughtcrime and In Search of Method). I have developed the promised theoretical framework and a manifesto for future literary resistance, but it has not felt useful for my own creative output to articulate it here. I could romanticise this as a sort of Fermat’s Last Theorem margin throwaway but I confess also it is a mix of laziness and my propensity to be interested in the next problem rather than the last. According to Alain Badiou’s ‘Ethics: An Essay on the Understanding of Evil’, my failure to articulate the discovery of this fidelity is “Evil in the sense of betrayal”; I feel the guilt of that sin and will fulfil my duty shortly after this blog.
Novel
Truth be told, I have already tested my
theory, let’s call it what it is – manifesto, with artistic and literary peers. The main criticism being that my focus on poetry is too narrow because its
strategies apply equally well across art practice in general, analogous to Tristan
Tzara or André Breton in relation of manifesto to movement. I don’t intend to
expand my thinking in this direction, simply because of my self-defeating tendency
to think too big. But while my creative output has been focused on ‘Genius’
this year, ie the associated novels on hold, I have been indulging myself with
applying the manifesto to literature in general, which has initiated another
project called ‘Novel’, triggered by Kundera’s Art of the Novel, Calvino’s
Literature Machine, Blanchot, Ricardou, Lukács, etc. This is a book of essays
investigating questions of fictive form and practice, and literary imperatives
facing apocalypse. One entertaining me at the moment is examination of the generalist
fallacy of canon and a provocative alternative approach. Instead of the ubiquitous
and facile list of the 50 or 100 best books of all time, the question is what
do those books that are thusly categorized do? And what are the ontological
connections between one ‘great’ book and another(s)? According to what principle are the component elements of
the texts related to each other? On this latter, I have adopted structural
concepts of ‘Place’, ‘Form’, ‘Endurance’,
‘Space’. By way of a taster, within ‘my’ canonical list, I am working on comparative
analysis of deBeauvoir’s ‘The Mandarins’ to Marquez’s ‘100 Years of
Solitude’; Simon’s ‘Georgics’ to Pynchon’s ‘Gravity’s Rainbow’ and Vonnegut’s ‘Hocus
Pocus’ (most best books lists go with ‘Slaughterhouse 5’ which I attribute to
lazy readers); Shute’s ‘On The Beach’ to de Saint-Exupery’s ‘Flight to Arras’
and Nabokov’s ‘Lolita’; Robbe-Grillet’s ‘The Voyeur’ with Golding’s ‘The
Inheritors’ and Iain M. Banks’ ‘Excession’; Hesses’ ‘Glass Bead Game’ to Dick’s
‘The Man in the High Castle’ and Bulgakov’s ‘The Master and Margarita’. Etc.
December 01, 2024
con creta - Leiria
Having done virtually no research about Leiria before I arrived, I was very enamored with it - a very charming little town, given what I imagine was an extra frisson by the near complete decoration of the centre for Christmas. I was a bit early for the start of the letra festival, so I visited the Banco das artes galeria for an exhibition of (primarily) drawing by Álvaro Siza – Drawings. Banco das Artes Galeria, Leiria. Obviously I'm very familiar with his architecture (his famous School of Architecture is at the end of our street), but his drawings were a revelation. No Photos allowed so you can look it up.
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| con creta catalogue |
From there we moved to Sal's miraculous shop/workshop of concrete and sound poetry Paperviewbooks where I bought what must be the book of my year Derek Beaulieu's Catalogue Saisonée and Christian Bok's new (blue) umlautmachine
Sadly, I had to return to Porto before the evening performances but Christian will be coming north for a few days next so I'll find out what I missed.
November 26, 2024
letra: mostra de poesia sonora e concreta leiria 30 de novembro de 2024
letra
mostra de poesia sonora e concreta
leiria 30 de novembro de 2024

Carolina Drave

Christian Bök
Cia Rinne

Diogo Marques


Fernando Aguiar

Nuno Moura
Paula Cortes

Simão Collares
June 24, 2024
AI – Against Interpretation
“It would probably not be beyond human ingenuity to write books by machinery.” George Orwell
AI Prompt: write a pop song using Schönberg’s 12-note scale celebrating a time-traveler's deletion of that bastard Brahms from this timeline:
The question of what art is: Joseph Beuys: “The thing that was missing was that all these fundamental questions, that is, the fundamental research into art and its function, could not be answered at the Academy,” or by Artificial Intelligence.
AI language games are directed towards/focused on answering inane questions, not fundamental questions; its baby-paws grasp after graffiti equivalence, DPRK candy realism, the desperate urge to it-looks-like representation – count each hair on that cat - O and/or plastic abstract neatness. New car shiny. As with every new technology from oil paint to Augmented Reality, the Paradigm: artists and pornographers take up the challenge to push it beyond its material limits to explore or predict the technology ('tis a consummation devoutly to be wished by Capital juggling “a world defined by new and complex regimes of differentiation and homogenization, deterritorialization and reterritorialization” – Negri+Hardt). AI’s Eternal September to ‘create’ is ‘exponential’, they say, the adjective triggers fear in some/fearsome – FEAR a system requirement – fictively we anticipate Cyberdyne Technologies, Elysium, or Brain Salad Surgery “I’m perfect. Are you?”: all AI literature descends to an end-digit, redundancy, extinction.
True or manufactured, manufactured or true, the media reports two responses from the ‘cultural’ sector: the early adopters embrace it, and the luddites design a ‘Human Artistry’ campaign kitemark. This is no more than a repetition, repetition, an evolutionary categorisation of late capitalism, consumption, surplus value increased with the artificial means of production in the hands of the few, ‘all-human’ production having as much relevance to this model as Sunday painters have to the Venice Biennale.
AI Prompt: Create a concrete porn-poem featuring a Monkey Christ and two cats
As with every new artistic tool, the quality of work produced has a direct relationship to the talent or vision of the human experimenting with it. There’s always a Leonardo who paints the Last Supper in oil on plaster, so it takes centuries of restorers to stop it flaking off the wall. We sit in that refectory as intended.
AI Prompt: Create a 1980’s playlist for DJ Dostoevsky
Ironically the Leonardo’s are the most dangerous to the capitalist paradigm. Bertran de Born and the pop song writers who whinge about how ‘terrifying’ it is that pop could be completely appropriated by AI need to listen to themselves, that boat sailed some time ago. I am reminded of an interview I heard on Radio 1 in the 1980’s with Martin Fry, lead singer of the band ABC, in which he opined that if Dostoevsky was alive in the 80’s he would be DJing in Covent Garden. I remember laughing out loud and like to think that I spat out my coffee. (I wonder whether anyone else remembers that statement? Roy Batty: ‘I've seen things you people wouldn't believe... Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion... I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain… at the end of that tea ceremony in Taipei).
AI Prompt: Design a sampler font which represents Saul Bellow’s description of seeing Trotsky’s corpse in the Mexican hospital in 1940.
Dostoyevsky: “I am a sick man... I am a spiteful man. I am an unattractive man. I believe my liver is diseased. However, I know nothing at all about my disease, and do not know for certain what ails me.” Bellow: “If I am out of my mind, it’s all right with me, thought Moses Herzog” – "the periphery still reproduces itself as the periphery.” This was my mistake. I tried to make the peripheral central: it was contraindicated all along.
Ai is the revenge of a kindergarten intellect upon art… violate art - based on the highly dubious theory that a work of art is composed of items of content. “It makes art into an article for use, for arrangement into a mental scheme of categories,” observes Susan Sontag. The Handbook of Inaesthetics notes “[a work of art] sets itself up as an inquiry into the question of its own finality. It is the persuasive procedure of its own finitude. This is, after all, why the artwork is irreplaceable in all of its points (another trait that distinguishes it from the generic infinite of the true): Once ‘left’ to its own immanent ends, it is as it will forever be.” Sylvain Lazarus asks whether there may “exist a regime of the thinkable that is inaccessible to this total jurisdiction of language.” The answer is obviously YES. I count five just in this post.
A truth is something we make. It is declared, composed, and upheld by the subjects it convokes and sustains. “Our world is full of copiers and repeaters, ... It is better to interpret than to compose; it is better to have an opinion on a decision that has already been made than to make one’s own. The modern illness is the engulfing of the new in the duplicata, the engulfing of intelligence in the pleasure of the homogeneous” (Michel Serres) but it’s hard. “No bird has the heart to sing in a thicket of questions,” says René Char.
AI Prompt: Choreograph a pustulant pavane for James Daly MP in the style of Charlemagne Palestine’s Schlongo!!
To show willin’: I gave AI a couple of chances while writing this: its DJ Dostoevsky generated nothing more than a 80s playlist and its Pavane was literally a description of dancers imitating spots bursting which scraped to the technical level infant school play. AI embarrassed itself. To anyone saying 'ah, but maybe AI is still at the level of a child.' I say child art is of no interest to anyone except to the parents.
AI Prompt: what would it mean if
Christian Bök has claimed poetry in the future will be written by machines for other machines to read – but like humans, the poetry machines won’t be paid for their works and the poetry reading machines will be a tiny group that turn up to performances on a wet Tuesday night in a room over a pub. In the words of the Irish gangster – “who fucking cares?”
Or as Tom Raworth wrote:
Lion Lion
the happy hunters are coming back
eager to be captured, to have someone unravel the knot
but nobody can understand the writing
in the book they found in the lion’s lair.
May 13, 2023
The Last International Poetry Dog Day
This would have been the 15th birthday of Barney, the famous Poetry Dog - he missed it by one month. We have been touched by the outpouring of condolence for him. So I thought a last acknowledgement of his status in the Poetry World was a suitable memorial.
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| Ron Silliman, Tony Lopez, Tony Trehy, Christian Bök (Text Festival) |
May 01, 2023
The King's Basement
The
King’s Basement
Bedside
manners are extra prayers empty,
As
succession entropic acts
A
new stamp a new head posted to Ipatiev House.
Usurping
timorous laureation we must to Ipatiev House
Search
engines at the ready, to calculate the difference … a falling blade,
A
spike, a headshot, a poll ending with a hung result.
Coronation
words and celebratory foods, chicken, charcuntery, and inertia
Until
when the poor will eat promises
All
unusual and active vectors orient to Ipatiev House,
The
Rite of Passage for all kings.
Search
engine differentials calculate the museological relevance of a meat-hook,
or
a headshot, a poll resulting in a crumbling Bourbon end.
Big
fat hands gasping for air – as entitlement is to justified, as ascension is to basement.
April 04, 2023
The Bijouterie of Winnie and the Shiba Fellas
The Bijouterie of Winnie and the Shiba Fellas
And did those in ancient time walk upon mountains?
And was the anonymous pleasant pasture anxious?
And when the oozing flood conspired to the
anthropomorph,
And assertive hope was mocked to undermine,
And mills still Satanic, though closed and burned
out
For
future residential development
or locations for cold people to starve.
As bristling musculature stared at screens and,
chewing,
As if cry havoc dogs and wagin' doges, callin’ tantrum chagrin
for war
As if broadcasting pustular to its proud
constituency of residual pornocrats,
Ageing as futureless empires do, sanded in desert
storms lost, herniated,
burger fat
believers in a half-century pre-dream state,
as if every night, without fail, the bijouterie of
Winnie and adrenal Shiba Fellas struts
that banal masturbatory oath.
December 26, 2022
Stalin
The other day I was calling out the latest American Empire colour revolution on social media. It doesn't matter which one it was because I've counted another 2 or 3 more since I posted it. Anyway, some big-gob/bot/whatever (unknown to me but apparently a follower of other people I know), barged onto my time-line to accuse me of being a 'Stalinoid'. Hard to think of a more adolescently feeble 'insult', but it reminded me that while back I wrote a two-part piece about Stalin for my 'Dyer & Mahfouz' Collection. So this is a good excuse to roll it out:
The Birth of Stalin
Gerard Trehy had been an active shop steward in
the building trade in the 1960s. He’d stood against old style bosses alongside
the legendary firebrand Union man, ‘Red’ Eric Heffer. So, when I began work, my
very first job, and almost immediately got ‘volunteered’/put myself forward to
be a shop steward, I asked for his advice. He said: “the thing to watch out for is
at some future union meeting or stewards committee, the top table will report
that the employers have proposed some terrible change to working conditions or
pay or holidays, whatever. And the bloke beside you will lean over and say –
here, that’s outrageous, we can’t let them get away with that. Etc. etc. and
he’ll get you wound up and feed you ammunition, make you angry to such a point that
you will stand up and make an impassioned speech about how the union needs to
stand and fight. And you will pull everyone else up to that pitch and the top
table will agree to confront the bosses and you’ll be volunteered to be at the
forefront because you are so passionate. And later when things get difficult,
the bloke who sat next to you won’t be anywhere to be seen.”
And true enough, in only my second or third
stewards meeting, the branch secretary reported an outrageous stunt from the
bosses, and I leant over to the steward sitting next to me and said: “Here, we
can’t let them get away with that. That’s fucking outrageous.”
The Triumph of Stalin
In the spring of this dissymmetry, singular and true, I am Stalin qua Stalin, to
the big picture, shaping the new individual, indexed to the double scission,
fifth of five but with renewed undeniable music; I am remembered,
fond of binary meets, the very Idea secretary of all meets and all joins
the
warmth, the warmth in that household to preserve
an
infinitely expanding tautology of action, singular and true, A
determination unsympathetic and dismissive assertions,
appropriations under-specified and my model axiom:
“Never ask, command.”
and
by all accounts
I won, to be fair.
December 05, 2022
Broadside
The set of 7 prints features Marsha's photography juxtaposed with four of my new poems (Indigo, The Last Time, The Tree of Moments, and Types of Failure.
February 03, 2021
Winter with Helmut Lemke
the WINTER on Vimeo
Helmut Lemke posts 'Winter', the last in his seasonal art 'lectures' featuring his reading of my specially written poem:
Zugzwang as the Fourth Part registering Transition to Rumours of Winter and End
Transition from rumours of winter, positional to suns rising over there (points in that direction) rather than over there (points in that direction).
Record suns replace cold lyric frost
Counting
as
Drift
As
Autumn’s pension arrangements are now irrelevant to the quartet. To hang on . .
. to hang on
To the
field of action mostly taking place at night or winter daylight, passed
celebrating the cold last day,
The
series addition delays to die in the gap, immortal but only by implication, by
hope, by leaving the new clear to go on
precarious in Queue Theory
waking each morning darker
our moment of inertia and the failing capacity to self-heal telomere degradation
This
rhythm of fourths, a promise we aim to break, weakened, diagnosed, conditioned
to lose
winter as weary
our Lévy Flight bouncing between
this point and that point
frantic without knowing
the unannealed countdown
…eighth, twenty-ninth, thirtieth,
thirty-first.
July 20, 2020
Poetry as Thoughtcrime
Overcasting (Databolism) - Noah Pred
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Having done virtually no research about Leiria before I arrived, I was very enamored with it - a very charming little town, given what I im...


















