The Swamp
©  Robin Ouzman Hislop 2004


Recovered from her sickness
like a sick calf shakes on the morn.
Before even the ape became human
She'd transformed her womb,
given birth to new incubation

Metamorphosis of the dragon fly,
came we human on the crane's wing
to a shore with a word hoard,
where the lillies set sail to the sea
before the  angels were born.

Who fell from the stars to skies
long after we'd left those starry isles
as memories on waters, which we once
trod beyond these ruins & their stars,
where labyrinths run to sewers.




Poems for the Fall 
©  Robin Ouzman Hislop 2004


i.

Autumn

i'm off bird spotting
because birds have heart attacks
& drop from the sky

but find instead fly agaric
seventeenth of september.
 
picking blackberries
draws blood ripe juice black & red
mixes from a thorn. 

unseen september's moon 
wanes buried in vermilion
in a blazed bird's wing


ii.

In an Oval Mirror

in an oval mirror as on bed i lay
watching another morning stray
a window corner juts angularly
blue in lace & fleece sail through
& soon day will be cut in two
& half of me will be with you
a flash in the mind's eye or so
as the sun goes down  a glinting
& that old demon winter's come 



iii.

October Showers

rain drops: stains that disperse  
as erosion in a window time's
passion for transformation.

dare to dream in the rain the face 
on your skin is heaven wide open 
water in your eyes below you only skies


iv.

Moss Valley.

on the hill, trees' emerald 
green draws me. undulation, 
respiration, fusion, waves:
briar weaves & stars glitter on 
tattoo patterns wrapped in skin.


v.

The Land of Shi.

She beckons to me
Across the meer
To pass on weir
With ne'er a fear.
So will I follow
Her beckon and call
Over waterfall
To the Land of Shi.

A hundred yards tall
Trees shed canopy,
Bowers invite me
Framed in mystery.
Horizon isles
In glassy blue float
Waters on the moat,
A boat's tall and small.

Such is wonderland
Through a looking glass,
Where no shadows pass,
On the silver grass.
Nor beast skulks in lair,
Only rainbows sprung,
Where time ever young
Whistles down the wind.


vi.

Nobody was There.

And nobody was there 
In the morning air
But I felt dawn's pain 
Falling down like manna rain.

As I walked out, I walked out 
with not a soul about,
But I thought I heard 
Warbles from a bird

Which went rippling through my hair, 
But nobody was there.
Flesh's corporeal 
In what it can feel

But no news at all, 
In the Order of it All,
And nobody was there 
My poem to care.

My experience 
Of omniscience
Infintisimal,
In the Order of it All.

As the bird's song rare, 
Where nobody was there,
So far and near, 
To a somebody here.


vii.

Yes & No.

flick a book's pages through
unborn between the lines,
where phantoms follow you

& the dead ahead wait,
what supports yourself's time
but the flick of a page,

yes & no at the window
& scars on the horizon.
in the mirage lies the memory
with the dream space in between
yes & no at the window.


viii.

Albion*

Be bedded body between sheets of time,
What is his flesh now but a guttered grime,
To doff, to toss, to scoff & bawdy rhyme.
Here lies the tombed giant Albion,
Fallen before even Jerusalem.
Deadly now he broods fallen far from yon
Golden fens of yore. The seven heaven
keepers, who sleep awake in the cavern,

are not his fall of nightmare sleep that roars
Dark & deep from heaven's chasmic divide
On Albion's shores with banners of wars,
Until by a kiss he's restored his bride.
Then shall Albion rise again sublime
Seven eyes to guard & reave him divine.

* After William Blake.