This is what happens when you have been hurt by those you have loved and those who have claimed to love you..when you begin to feel...
THE HAPPINESS YOU FIND IN UNEXPECTED PLACES DISAPPEARS WHEN YOU ARE DISCARDED...LIVING SO GUARDED THE CHANGES SENSED..FEELINGS DEPARTED...NOW I CAN REMEMBER HOW IT BEGINS...THIS ARMOR I FORGED... THIS AURA OF STRENGTH...FALLEN NOW... WHILE AT YOU.... I PAUSED TO GAZE....JUST ONCE..TRULY VULNERABLE..JUST ONCE TRULY CARE..WITH DISDAIN..UNDER GUISE..WATCHFUL COVETOUS EYES...GLARE AT YOU NOW ....CAREFUL CONSTRUCTION... LOVE IS THE LIE....
Robin Ouzman Hislop's poetry is certainly in dialogue with some of the key architects of the 'poetics of indeterminacy' – both the Modernist strands represented by the likes of Beckett and Stein, and the postmodernist strands represented, initially,