Bob Dylan is about solitude, about preserving an inner space indifferent to what makes it great, about staying in that realm of always beginning again.
You can see a closed space at the heart of many of Radiohead's songs. To draw out one of their own images, it may be something like a glass house. You live continuously in the glare of inspection and with the threat of intrusion. The attempt to cast stones at an outer world of enemies would shatter your own shelter. So you settle for the protection of this house, with watchers on the outside, as a place you can still live, a way to preserve the vestige of closure–a barrier, however glassy and fragile, against the outside. In English terms, a glass house is also a glasshouse, which we can call a greenhouse. It is the artificial construction that allows botanical life to thrive in winter.
Radiohead's songs suggest that you should erect a barrier, even of repeated minimal words, or the assertion of a "we," to protect yourself–and then there proves to be a place in each song to which you, too, can't be admitted, because the singer has something within him closed to interference, just as every one of us does, or should. We'll all have to find the last dwellings within ourselves that are closed to intrusion, and begin from there. The politics of the next age, if we are to survive, will be a politics of the re-creation of privacy (Mark Greif, from the same article as before)
I think the same applies to Dylan, or rather Dylan's art (the distinction remains important), and call it poetics if you must. Or, put another way: Radiohead is in a sense an example of the theory of/from Dylan today.