If my eye wanders
From the being
Of any, of every moment,
I become traitor
To my observing
Through my seeing
Be fascination
With knowing
Obsessively remembering
From present perspective -
But it is not doing
Not a catching up
Of the obligation
To acknowledge
To reverberate
Both to the past
And to now.
No action would be adequate.
It must be limbo
The domain of the zombie,
This quandary.
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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Sandie Angel :o)