Response to ‘Gilmore’
by Kevin Warwick – the World’s first Cyborg

From Puccini to Geri Halliwell, from Monet to David Hockney, from Delibes’ music to jewellery that changes colour, my brush with art was sorted. Poetry was never high on the agenda, after I waved goodbye, at school, to the Assyrian’s coming down and a fair measure of half a league, half a league. So the chance of a meeting with a modern day poet was a delightful injection of diversity.

Lunch with Michael Donaghy surprised me, with discussion ranging from my own Cyborg research, linking implants to my nervous system, through the everyday trials and tribulations of a modern day poet’s life to the ups and downs of our favourite soccer teams. We were, to all intents and purposes, merely a couple of guys chatting over a pint in the local hostelry. So what poetry could possibly erupt from such mundane beginnings? I awaited Michael’s outpourings, like a nervous teenager waiting for A level results, excitement and anticipation ringed with nervousness and a smattering of foreboding. What would Michael make of the research that I was doing? Would he say what a great guy I was or conversely paint me as an ogre and tyrant? Most importantly, would I understand it at all?

The big day arrived and I tentatively opened Michael’s email attachment to reveal the title 'Grimoire'. What the hell did that mean? A skimp through the verses themselves left me none the wiser. I understand most, not all, of the words, but making sense of the sentences was not an instant success. Clearly I needed to think about it all; it wasn’t something akin to a Jeffrey Archer novel that I could spend 5 minutes on, use little brain power, and forget all about next time the phone rang.

For me it was rather like reading an academic paper: not an unpleasant thing but rather something to work on. I started by picking on islands of ideas and concepts within the piece, that I felt I understood, and ventured out from these safe havens into the work in its entirety in order to taste the full flavour of its intent; when I still had difficulty with one or two references I discussed them with others and we arrived at a consensus.

I guess as a scientist I had never before given art the time of day. Either it hit me full in the face or I passed by on the other side of the street. But here, for the first time I had to work at it.

Grimoire – a book for summoning up demons – for me brought to life in a rather melodramatic way, an important aspect of the research that I am doing, linking humans directly with technology to create super humans, Cyborgs, an evolutionary step forward. The reference to Zarathustra was clear and poignant.

I found 'Grimoire' dark and frightening, leaving me with a scary taste, the sort of feeling you get at the end of Jekyll and Hyde. Like a real-world Dr. Jekyll, from the inside I never see my research as frightening. But, like Dr. Jekyll, I will press ahead even if others are horrified.

I respect the fact that Michael expended a considerable effort to understand my science; I trust that I have responded in a similar fashion towards his poetry. For me it was a deeply moving experience. Through Michael’s words I was able to look at myself in a ten-dimensional space. Clearly a few words can reflect much more than a thousand pictures.