There is a loneliness in me
that calls out to itself,
a sole voice ringing out
across the otherwise silence,
straining to be heard
by no one,
and nothing.
And I wonder sometimes
why I deny that part of me,
why I've moved on
from the self-inflicted distance
I so cherished
as that terribly vast emptiness,
if nothing else,
becomes me.
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,
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