The HyperTexts

Robin Ouzman Hislop

Robin Ouzman Hislop is a retired TEFL teacher and translator who lives in Avila Spain and Yorkshire UK. He is Editor of Poetry Life and Times at Artvilla.com. He is also the author of several poetry book collections and has translated from Spanish the poetry works of Guadalupe Grande and Carmen Crespo. You may visit Aquillrelle.com/Author Robin Ouzman Hislop  for information about the author and https://poetrylifeandtimes.com, which features mostly his video poems and translated authors. You can also see Robin performing his work at Performance (University of Leeds)  



Convolutions in Collage

day marches on stilts the ground waves goodbye to tomorrow in incandescent bursts as the abyss blinks in trembling space and  music flowers from pheromones a sap of words seeped in greenery  whilst nothingness lingers in empathy's core together  with the  running order of chaos as it showers into dust clouds a  shrouding abundance where  abstraction viewpoints  trickling and  diaphanous evanescent landscapes

as day marches on stilts the ground waves goodbye to tomorrow and showers into dust a sap of words seeped in incandescent evanescent bursts as music flowers from pheromone clouds a shrouding abundance in landscapes where empathy's core together with abstraction viewpoints trickling and diaphanous in trembling space an abyss blinks in greenery whilst nothingness lingers in the running order of chaos
          
then showers of dust sap into evanescent waves of goodbye to tomorrow as music flowers from pheromone clouds and a day marches on stilts the ground shrouding abundance where empathy's core together words seeped in incandescent landscapes burst with abstraction viewpoints trickling and diaphanous to blink whilst nothingness lingers trembling space in the running order of chaos an abyss of greenery



Pixel

on this pixel patch                     in a fish eye
of space                                      pivoting
the world revolves                     on this point of rest
in a fish eye                                of space
on a painted face                       on this pixel patch
pivoting                                      life moves on
on this point of rest                   on a painted face
on an infinitesimal                     the world revolves
in a sea of unknowing                yellow

yellow                                         the world revolves
our salvation                              our salvation
our doom                                    our doom
goes on & off                              life moves on
a nebulous flux                          on a painted face
like lights                                    in a sea of unknowing                
on a Christmas tree                   on this pixel patch
on a painted face                        on a Christmas tree

yellow                                         yellow

pivoting                                       like lights
on this point of rest                    a nebulous flux
of space                                      goes on & off
on this pixel patch                      on a Christmas tree
life moves on                              in a sea of unknowing
in a fish eye                                pivoting
the world revolves                      on an infinitesimal
on a painted face                        on this point of rest
                               
       

Dementia deterred today

dementia deterred today
i met a man with a gun
who went where the sky face was
then shot a hole in the sky
where the face of god appeared
which dropped down dead
next to me stood a dog
we went for a walk in the wood
all the people nodded & smiled
the world went up in flame
everybody was  up in flame
next to me stood a dog
the people  i met nodded
where the face of god appeared
which dropped down
next to nobody
as the world went up in flame
today i met nobody & everybody
who shot a gun & the world smiled
we went for a walk in the wood
 & nobody was to blame
& everybody was to blame
& nobody was the same
& everybody was the same
dementia deterred today



Top O'Hill

tree at the top of the hill     from a rooftop
a pigeon flies off over
the drone of white noise
behind you
an ephemeral mountain glides
& i wonder with you
as the crow flies
to raise my skeleton to the skies

keys wallet mobile glasses

i leave to face
the chores of our existence
whilst you lighter than air
tree at the top of the hill
are careless
whether or not there's free will

time is the darkness
where i dream of you beneath my skin
as my blood flows back to the forest
& the wind in the leaves breathes come in



Grasp

grasp from bone to throat
            will warble like a flute at air
                        music uttered with a gasp
& emptiness of hand
                        in the space between
what must become a fist    against embedded stone clenched clasped strikes bone
tool tone pain the softly surfaced
mind to map disembodied how it
day slips beyond its grasp
at air music uttered
with what must become

a fist maps disembodied how it day
will warble like a flute the softly surfaced mind
to a gasp at emptiness against embedded stone
clenched clasped to grasp from bone
to throat hand in space between
strikes of bone tool tone & pain
like a flute's emptiness against the embedded softly surfaced mind
                                    how it day will from bone to throat
hand in space grasp with what must become between
bone tool a fist            map                 strikes at air
disembodied music                             uttered



Vettone

if i were a Vettone 
you would not pass through this plateau  
if you came from outside     

everything
this side of the south mountain is ours  
you from the north are not welcome  

unless you bring

your bulls to water at our river side  
we do not fear your fierce charge  
here we are always waiting  

here we command the rock
that makes the sun & moon bow down  
to our river's source comes the mighty porpoise
whose snout is turned to stone  

& high on this altar view to that far cleft of hill 
rests the boulder that holds the sky down still   
& where none may enter without our knowing



Yahun

suddenly i flashback to a dangerous
rushing stream tumbling & cold
i remember the water as green   white  deep
a slither of a stripped tree trunk straddles
the sheer sided banks  which can be crossed
by a few strides & a skip
which all in the bleak grey stone village must do
old or young  strong  weak or sick
nobody is in sight
the spar looks slippery       shiny
bent with an undersway to the tug of the flow
a fatal slip & i'm a gonna 
but i cross        a few strides & a skip    
i come to the first stone dwelling
ground  hard & arid   i pass a front dyke
to enter without a door
the burnt earthen floor room in its dim half light      

i don't remember how

there's what looks like a built up
large sink made of stone & shingle
& in it half submerged
in clear cold water       small white turnips
it's his only fare           we stare at each other
he is tall thin gaunt with long white hair & beard
clad in a brown home spun gown & cord sandals
he goes to the sink   offers me a soaked turnip

is this me in another life time

could i live this life day after day        
tonight i will sleep out
i cannot stay    we have not spoken a word  
i eat the turnip & leave as suddenly as i came           
to a memory which now hinges on a dream 
as though a desert wind should move a dune
where you wake to find
what you left behind is beyond you still



Voices

like phantoms   /   eye to eye    /   before flames  /    multiple voices     /  photons cascade  /     appear & disappear  /    in blank incomprehension  /   here   /  where i hear    /  with my ear  /  here   /    no distance  /  between   /  shadow play  /   words    /  listen & listened   /   i see  /   present & absence  / remembered  / billions of people   /  under social systems  /   their brains  /   distorting echoes  /     over time   /  as we   /  pass    /  the point  /   of no return   /   here  /    far away  /     the hill /     is there  /  but still   /   i can see  /  a  place   /          i'd like to be  /   right now /    &  /    i wish i were  /   a bird  / in the world  /   i'd fly /   like a  / comet  /  there  / so  /    i was reading  /    something  /   very interesting   /  when   /    i  realised   /   my eyes   /   were closed   /    & when  /  i opened them    /   i'd no idea  / where i'd left off   /   from before   /    except     /         it /   had nothing to do /   with what  /   i thought   /   i had   /  been   /  reading   /  which was better  /   i couldn't  /   believe it   /  i had   /   just lost  /  it all   /  same old shit  /   on the window sill    / i wish   /    i was   /   a bird  /   & could fly  /  to the hill  /    looking at the   /   unthinkable crime /    so late /  in the day  /   quite an   /  indescribable crime /    against  /    all time /    without making /    predictions  /  just   vaporizations   / about voices   /   i hear   / there   / here /



The following poems are earlier work submitted circa 2002 ...



Beatific

i have not seen yet
fullest flowering of your face
where my heart waits
that mystery of your grace
to have heard on the waters
you weep & know
beyond the veil of tears,
yet more exalted spheres

here still the serpent sun
the moon & the womb
the diamond diadem
& glittering ocean
on the waves on moirai
& breath of mnemosyne



Dream of Uroborus

The deluge will come,
warm waters will lap at your home,
the plague will increase
& we creatures will perish.

The meiotic dance
in our speciation
could have been a trance
not a deception,
biophylia in the masque of eros
in life after estrus.

Evolution doesn't say
& perhaps on another day
it's androgynous anyway.
& we'll sequence the genome
again, in trans-genderey,
at the end of the century,
a new human womb
in the womb of time,
or will we start it all over again,
from homo sapien to homo rapien!

Talking heads loom, expert
in this, authority on that,
profession, specialisation, prophet
in this, last word on that, then fit
into the screen, focus the information,
take it down, you are now one of them.

The crowd is full of strays
being sent home
embedded in the grain.
& all stories are the same
swallowing themselves like Uroborus,
who in its own dream disappears,
only to appear again.



Nyx

human being, your lives, so little
for your tragedies so great,
ravelled in the shrouds of nyx
& fatal twins thanatos & hypnosis,
where ever lost you yet acclaim
if not second to none, the next best.

to what mocking echo, pitiful fall
your triumphant aspirations,
but soft ye now, nyx whispers
in hypnosis’s ear that morpheus appear

on the waters of the night.
where the architect of tomorrow
usurps no more what potion
morpheus drops upon an eyelid.

or what monster might rear or nightmare
demeter in the womb of night, nyx
her embrace suckled on each breast,
born of the serpent, twins of the beast
or how she may come or what chariot,
yet the clarion or what hour!



Lagoon

I should go on down the dales
to the Palace of Rhiannon
by the Caers, misty isles
you see, as though at sea.

A place of memory, the Sidhi,
under the silver moon's
starry wheel of heaven.
A myriad jewel, a peacock's fan,

A tiara on a diadem arisen
in the silver shimmering night.
But here at the lagoon
are peril, dread & doom.

A frond more perfect than the abysm
with cold waters darker than light,
where not even the moon appears
to shift its depths wherein sky shivers.

Embraced in a silver circle alone,
an oracle more brittle than bone
or wind-lashed skin naked drawn,
all who enter here none return.

The HyperTexts