"This isn't me!"
I protest over and over.
Then I have to admit it is me,
an old man now, alone, his memories
slipping from their tethers,
floating away into the fog of the clouds;
remnants of long gone events
which someone will find miles away,
snagged in a maple tree
next to their driveway;
never imagining how precious they are,
where in the world they came from,
or where out of the world
they were trying to go.
This collection of poetry addresses the nature of time, reflections on the natural world, the difficulty of loss,
contemporary social issues and gratitude for life.
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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