The Tate invites. You do not send in proposals. To write a proposal for the Turbine Hall is to dream seriously. This is a startling and provocative range of proposals, most of them from Ireland, some within the bounds of possibility, some beyond. Contributors grapple with abstractions like truth and fear as well as with the dense physicality and absurdity of the world we live in. The Turbine Hall is occupied by cars or carcasses, sharks or poltergeists, by energies of the mind.

Down the hill, where solitude ends and the market place begins; round the hill, the conundrum of the gooseberry people; up the hill, the judge's horse likes to Fidelio; inside the hill, MacCruiskeen reads the cracks in the ceiling. These are the practico-inert conditions.

Strangeness is a property of some of the more exotic elementary tales, whose lifetime before decay is millions of times greater than expected. A sequence of headlong, breathless, heightened and rooted poems.

At an exhibition of work I had curated, one of the artists asked me, What next? A dust jacket for a book I never made was my response. (Thank you Tom.)