I don’t have things to tell you x Centrefolding

Saturday 21st November at 7pm
Mount Florida Books, Glasgow

Join us for the launch of I don’t have things to tell you (Strange Region, 2027), a collaborative epistolary collection of poetry by Mau Baiocco and Maria Sledmere. We are also celebrating the second edition of Kirsty Dunlop’s Centrefolding, also with Strange Region. The event will feature readings from all three authors, plus a conversation between Mau and Maria.

Tickets available from Mount Florida Books, here.

Written as letters to one another between 2022-25, I don’t have things to tell you charts the development of a shared creative form, a currency of intimate exchange born of longing and companionship.

Combining documentary with diaristic insight, Mau and Maria rehearse their nostalgia for the lived moment. The poets discuss their encounters with art and conversations with friends. They recall dreams, architecture and sicknesses of the body and mind. Moving through metaphysical enquiry, acid Romanticism, wishlists and the ephemera of everyday life, they write towards a theory of living in unbelievable times. These poems are documents of culture at precise, dated moments. Portraits of loneliness, self-sabotage, mirror-selves. They contain birthday wishes, celestial visions, alchemical descriptions of literature, dream reports, news items and psychogeographical tangents.

These poems are channels of thought and energy between Leeds and Glasgow, and between digital and corporeal versions of oneself. They reflect a yearning to map the interior of poetic community, to write love into existence, and to construct a shareable future motivated by friendship.

In Centrefolding, an unnamed protagonist shifts, sprints, swerves and transmorphs through the “Centre!” (exclamation mark required), a research institute in some northern British city, in our current jittery moment. Glitches in reality abound: expect research into alien life that goes nowhere, an underground hospital, an Entrepreneur-in-Residence, and ‘lingerers’ slithering under glass doors (you know, like a worm).

Mau Baiocco is the author of The Resting Acrobats (Monitor, 2023) living in Leeds. They have worked as an editor for SPAM zine, organised the Leeds Poetry Studio and original poetry and translations have appeared on Tripwire, Datableed, Amberflora and Firmament, among others.

Maria Sledmere is a poet-scholar, artist and lecturer in English & Creative Writing at the University of Strathclyde. She is managing editor at SPAM Press, one half of the performance duo Project Somnolence and the author of over twenty print publications including The Indigo Hours (Broken Sleep, 2025), Languishing, cute – with Ian Macartney (Tapsalteerie, 2025), Midsummer Song (Hypercritique) (Tenement Press, 2024), Cinders (Krupskaya, 2024) and An Aura of Plasma Around the Sun (Hem Press, 2023). She has been published in Jacket2, The Stinging Fly, Fallow, Blush, Prototype, Postmodern Cultures, Magma and elsewhere.

Kirsty Dunlop is a multimedia writer, editor, researcher and musician, based in Glasgow. She has a doctorate in Creative Writing from the University of Glasgow, exploring the possibilities of hybrid New Media writing and glitchful experiments through her concept of ‘Emergent Essaying’. She regularly leads workshops and gives talks on digital hybrid forms and is a freelance Games Developer. Her practice encompasses fiction, poetics, non-fiction and the hybrid essay, alongside code and performance. She is Editor-in-Chief of SPAM Press. Centrefolding is her debut novella, originally published by Sincere Corkscrew, now out with Strange Region.

Edinburgh Centrefolding Launch with Kirsty Dunlop 28/3/26

This is my introduction to the Edinburgh launch of Kirsty Dunlop’s Centrefolding (sincere corkscrew, 2026) taking place at Argonaut Books on 23 March 2026. Below you’ll find the audio recording.

First fold: picture the scene. You walk into a large building with metallic cladding and an enticing revolving door. Everything is atrium: echo, wide-panelled windows, open ceilings, flickering screens, a sense of upward levelling gesturing towards the reflective light of infinity. The acoustics are such that a phone call 30 metres away is audible, mixed in with the whirr of unnecessary AC, obnoxious public Zoom calls and the sound of bio-engineers cutting business deals over limp sandwiches. You sit down at a table because there are many tables, arranged with no discernible logic i.e. skew-whiff, chaos on wheels. You observe an apple core oxidising in the airless afternoon. Outside, another building is being constructed. Cladding going up, men in neon orange operating a crane, authentic cherry blossoms swaying beneath them. You split open the spine of a svelte yellow book that has been abandoned, seductively, beside the apple core. Against a black screen in the book’s near-centre, you see the universal sign for buffering, a loading terminal of found language. Certain words present themselves luminously over others: ‘chemically’, ‘error message’, ‘quadrupling’, ‘loitering’, ‘squeezing’, ‘piss’, ‘rose’, ‘ecstatic’, ‘kissing’, ‘a thrum continues’. A narrator levitates mysteriously from the spread before you. Was it this the voice who ate the apple? Such thought is interrupted by a man nearby, addressing something unseen on his laptop: ‘when you see the standard feedback field, what exactly do you mean?’ and then ‘in a sense what you are doing is a quantum stochastic unravelling’. 

Welcome, everyone, to the Centre. ‘The dispersed rhythm of a wandering’, writes Lisa Robertson in Nilling, ‘— musical and conceptual — is what its folds conduct’.

This overhearing of the feedback field, the quantum stochastic unravelling, is the perfect threshold, the perfect fold, from which your encounter with this book commences. 

Imagine this from the outside, seen at night, as our narrator describes it: ‘the Centre, glowing like an alien presence’. 

What we are launching tonight is a remarkable achievement, a provocation, a satire, a first novella, a tenacious experiment, an alien escaped from the lab of Scottish fiction, a flight of fancy so daring its completion depended on a dare set by a senior employee of the actual Centre. Also known as: a stochastic unravelling of theory, praxis and IRL experience. Tonight, we are launching Kirsty Dunlop’s Centrefolding, published by the sincere corkscrew, a Glasgow-based small press founded in 2021. 

A little about the author: 

Dr Kirsty Dunlop is a multimedia writer, editor, researcher and musician based in Glasgow. She recently completed her Doctorate of Fine Arts in Creative Writing at the University of Glasgow, entitled ‘Emergent Gameplay, Emergent Essaying’ which explored the possibilities of hybrid New Media writing through a digital-born collection. She is Editor-in-Chief of SPAM Press.

Reading this novella is like slipping in and out of a wild stream of fantasies crowdsourced during a conference hosted by the Department of Emotions. And yet the world is so clearly that of our inimitable narrator, so wholly seen through their distinctive, sign-hungry imaginary. 

Like the king of poststructuralism, Jacques Derrida, Kirsty Dunlop’s sign is in Cancer. And Cancers are known for their strong emotions. But the astrological isn’t the only sign we’re focusing on here. In his critique of the sign, Derrida sent any notion of the ‘centre’ into a chain of ceaseless deferral and free play. It is in this cascade of signification that Kirsty’s prose takes flight. Takes flight under the shimmering sign of Ali Smith’s sentences, Muriel Spark’s intentional loitering, the crush poetics of Geraldine Snell’s overlove and satirical flair of campus novels and workplace fiction in general — one thinks of Emily Segal’s Mercury in Retrograde, an autofictive account of working at a trend-forecasting startup, or Joshua Ferris’ Then We Came to the End, a tale of white-collar workers at an ad agency, dreading the fate of unemployment during an economic downturn. 

Tonight we are Centrefolding. Kirsty has written what Daisy Lafarge aptly calls a ‘future cult classic’, a line I can’t help but hear in Charli XCX’s voice in the way she sings ‘club classics’ and three times again for good measure. It had me snorting with laughter on the subway and choking on the apple of knowledge exchange and sin. I’m so excited to be here with you in the wonderful Argonaut Books to discuss the novella that captures economic precarity, friendship, solidarity, loitering and the neoliberalisation of the academy like nothing else. First up we’re going to have a performance from the amazing Kevin Leomo in collaboration with Kirsty and…the Centre itself! Then we’ll have a reading from Kirsty followed by some questions from me. We’ll open up the floor to your questions and finish on a final reading. 

I’ll just introduce Kevin now. 

Kevin Leomo is a Scottish-Filipino sound artist, researcher, and curator. He directs the sound artist collective Sound Thought and is one half of Project Somnolence with Maria Sledmere. He is a board member for the Scottish Music Centre and the Anti-Racism Observatory for Scotland. Kevin works as the Community and Engagement Manager for the College of Arts & Humanities at the University of Glasgow and Co-Director of the Creatives of Colour Festival.

Stream Kirsty Dunlop – Edinburgh Centrefolding Launch 2026-03-28 – Fireside Chat with Maria Sledmere by Andrew Kenower | Listen online for free on SoundCloud

Order a copy of Centrefolding here.

~

Recording: Andrew Kenower
Photos: Adeel Ali and Maria Sledmere

Lossy Compressed @ The Hug and Pint/

On 27th August 2022, Kirsty Dunlop and I performed our glitch singularity, fuelled by Doritos, tiredness and cheap lager, to manifest arpeggios of shimmer poem. “My favourite powerpoint in the world”, someone in the audience said. “The band” is called Lossy Compressed and this is an extract from our first performance. In this extract of the set, I’m reading from my book String Feeling and Kirsty is improvising on the harp, it gets slow and fast. Thank you to Craig and Ruthie from the brilliant King Wine for inviting us. Video footage is by Shehzar Doja.

Accompanying the performance was a one-off pamphlet (edition of 20), SLEEP FOREVER IN FLARFLAND LIL BABY DOLPHINA, published by Mermaid Motel. pdf version may drop on the internet sometime soon.

NEW BOOK AND LAUNCH: Rainbow Arcadia

IMG_9400.JPGIMG_9402.jpgIMG_9403.jpg

Excited to launch a new pamphlet, Rainbow Arcadia, published by Face Press. The launch will be a double affair, alongside Katy Lewis Hood, whose gorgeous sell-out SWATCH was recently published by glyph press.

If you’re around, please join us on the eve of the winter solstice, 21st December, at Typewronger Books for some poems and ~ festivities ~

feat. readings from:

Gloria Dawson
Kirsty Dunlop
Katy Lewis Hood
Maria Sledmere

~

winter solstice pamphlet launch insta2.jpg

Rainbow Arcadia (Face Press)

A suite of eight ambient poems printed in full-colour risograph, Rainbow Arcadia dramatises the sensuous carousel of the late-capitalist plaza and its whorled ontologies of hunger, shimmer and infinity. Exploring a lurid, kitsch and gelatinous anthropocene aesthetic, these poems embody the surrealist poetics of our material excess: lines whittled to sweetness and dissonance; an archival trace, a precarity.

SWATCH (glyph press)

Written over a year of locational, seasonal, and apparently epochal changes, SWATCH is a series of poems caught up in the tangles between language and matter in and against the captures of extractive capital and ruptures of environmental breakdown. Thinking with the (natural) histories of colour charts and all kinds of animals/vegetables/minerals/plastiglomerates, these poems play with, borrow and re-locate language in an attempt to inhabit entangled relations.

 

~

 

Katy Lewis Hood is a poet, editor, and PhD student currently based in London. She co-edits the poetry magazines amberflora and CUMULUS, and her poetry pamphlet SWATCH is forthcoming with glyph press in autumn 2019.

Maria Sledmere is working towards a DFA in anthropocene aesthetics at the University of Glasgow. She is a member of A+E Collective, freelance music journalist, Poetry and Nonfiction Editor for SPAM Press, Poetry Editor at Dostoyevsky Wannabe and founding editor of Gilded Dirt. Her new Sad Press pamphlet, nature sounds without nature sounds, follows the recnte publications: Existential Stationary (SPAM Press, 2018), lana del rey playing at a stripclub (Mermaid Motel, 2019) and a slender pamphlet of sonic essaying with Max Parnell, titled Pure Sound (SPAM Press, 2019). 

Gloria Dawson lives in Glasgow and is trying to be the communist poet you want to see in the world. Most recent publication is circlusion (Zarf Editions, 2018) and you can also find work online at Datableed, amberflora, and other places where writing dwells.

Kirsty Dunlop lives in Glasgow and writes: short stories? poems? e-lit? collaborative fiction?- she’s not very sure most of the time. She is interested in the exciting possibilities of cross-medium, cross-form writing, and is currently working towards a DFA in Creative Writing at the University of Glasgow. You can read some of her work in journals such as SPAM and From Glasgow to Saturn.

 

(Poem) Lozenges of Responsive Eye

lozenges.jpg

Poem co-written with Kirsty Dunlop on 30th July, in response to Bridget Riley’s exhibition at Edinburgh’s National Gallery of Scotland. Sketches by Maria Sledmere.

Lozenges of Responsive Eye

i.
A jail cell of pin-striped trousers
And jelly is stretching
Ben and Bridget’s collaborative secret:
Stripes vs polka dots; battle of personality
For personable sense
A ballet of silk as scream
All Jack Wills plagiarists
Pluck a little learnèd relief,
My trypophobic kitsch.

ii.
The over-blunt rust of the pencil takes over
With Anthropologie’s rich, ornamental fruit
All that plasticine:
infinite optic nude.
E= Mc2= seafoam equalities
Teeth keys,
No,
Keys having sex
Some sexy metal grinding grind core
Towards the yonic aporia.

iii.
Runway & Egyption palette of
Patchwork architecture w/ international sunset
Peach plastic, has to be fantastic
Too many black hole doors of exhibited thrill.
& Wind massage
Pulses the butterfly, connects such dots.

iv.
Ribbony eel of clandestine dreams:
Gel pen explosion, want that scented mint,
Bubblegum and banana
=> Warp nostalgia
Almost forgot about my cola phobia
Piña colada for the pleistocene.

v.
There’s a woman reading behind her triangles,
Meeting the tender tremble:
Slimy triangulation overlaid
Blurring pyramidal bluntness
Blooming bud above belly a bus of mixed feeling;
Keep looking, unhooking
The ghostly room and pastel pleasures.