Stephen Robertson

Slanting Lines

Concordance

This concordance provides an index to every word in the poems, excluding a list of common "stopwords".  It may be useful in finding a half-remembered poem, and perhaps in looking at the usage of words in the poems as a whole.  It will be readable only on a large screen.

U

n many places.  Three solid days in the
Uffizi in Florence.  Walking in the drizzle the long approach road to
ill describe the house itself // // as
ugly .  No such thought would cross my five- // // or eight- or ten-ye
ut one preceding.”  // // —James Joyce,
Ulysses .  // //
can // // think of resuming my journey
unaided —I // // just have to check on my map for the best way back.  /
ise officer takes to // // dropping by
unannounced .  // // Catch them at it – // // there must be moonshine.
// To indulge in the felicity // // Of
unbounded domesticity. // // (not the Pirates of Penzance – apologies
n rolling out its own // // finite but
unbounded space-time continuum // // —cool!  // // There are some lov
cold— // // and my breathing is rather
uncertain .”  // //
/ has the interval passed by.  // // An
uncompleted day // // is not yet to be fixed— // // but each interva
ning is always the morning // // of an
uncompleted day.  // // Not until light is fading // // has the inter
e bench // // is piled uncontained and
unconstrained .  // // Unused parts from finished or abandoned projects
remainder of the bench // // is piled
uncontained and unconstrained.  // // Unused parts from finished or ab
ouse in Peckham, the walls stripped and
undecorated , but with marks and signs accumulated over a century and a
conquer.  // // Spiders’ webs among the
undergrowth .  // // Look closely: precise angular spirals // // stru
sky looked for deeper motivation // //
underneath their surface combinations.  // // Now Brin and Page build
ver felt before— // // something solid
underneath us // // churning the water, // // disturbing our roll, /
s that I can neither // // control nor
understand . // // 3 sideways: perspiration // // Yet here’s a thoug
d // // // // Of course we’d like to
understand // // the stars and planets overhead // // as well as act
k // // tried to think // // tried to
understand // // tried to write // // tried to write a poem // //
ned to the flames.  // // (I completely
understand why people have // // funeral pyres.) Later we scatter th
oughts tragic or tender— // // of love
unfinished or of peaceful earth, // // the mill-girl’s beauty or the
ed // // across the rest, looking with
unfocussed eyes // // into the distance down the street.  I could not
s catch // // smoke curls // // flame
unfurls // // smoke grows // // smoke curls // // smoke billows //
catch // // strike match // // flame
unfurls // // twigs catch // // smoke curls // // flame unfurls //
e apple said), // // to comprehend the
universe // // both in the large and in the small, // // to learn (f
d.  // // This is the heat-death of the
universe ; // // the restaurant has closed, // // and that was the la
t by the river lie // // Are rough and
unkempt .  Buzzards fly // // Above the weedy hedgerows, by // // The
th small, clear plastic drawers // // —
unlabelled , but the nuts and bolts and washers // // are visible with
ports // // a wild, tufted crown—quite
unlike // // the planted forest, serried ranks of Christmas pine //
er his arrival, // // was buried in an
unmarked grave.  // // There were no victors: only victims.  // //
missing.  // // The culprit must now be
unmasked .  // // It’s becoming quite clear that the hour // // for so
and take a lurch // // at some acute,
unmeasured angle.  // // Last September, meeting you.  // // The world
Unnatural disasters // // Pribble and prabble: as // // Nigel’s mara
he house’s existence.  We left the room
unpainted for the best part of the 22 years we lived there, and it was
ave and lost, // // we let each thread
unroll behind, // // laying down the past— // // until the day, just
n its arms // // a walled garden, left
untended // // for maybe thirty years.  A winding path // // leads f
d uncontained and unconstrained.  // //
Unused parts from finished or abandoned projects, // // pieces half-c
/ The rule: we should not // // begin
unwrapping till it’s // // light enough to see.  // // Below the bulg
// goes head over heels // // on hard,
unyielding // // rocks and stones, // // falls back under my feet.  /
e glimpse inside.  A woman leans // //
upon a table in the window, looks // // out into sunlight, over grass
// Far away and long ago, // // once
upon a time and place, // // the world just so, // // a pretty maide
// // Even now, // // I feel the heat
upon my face.  // // Twenty three years later, when my mother died //
ld.  // // Every step, // // your foot
upon the crust, you think // // ‘This time, it will hold my weight.’ 
d.  The winter’s chill // // Lies fast
upon the land so ill.  // // Seldom now the skylark’s trill; // // No
ly, far away, the churn // // of waves
upon the sand.  Eastwards we turn, // // along the open beach, in ric
gestures wide.  // // The sun and wind
upon the trees outside…  // // I try to listen, but my musing strays. 
, decades, centuries // // have I lain
upon this sandy seafloor?  // // I cannot now recall.  // // Up there
zac”.  It is a full-length bronze cape,
upright and rounded as if on the shoulders of its owner, but actually
Upscale down // // One to forty-five million:  Pacific Ocean // // M
they might be in.  // // Turn the place
upside down.  // // Bedroom again, more drawers and cupboards.  // //
d myself in wooded Janet’s Foss.  // //
Upstream again to clamber Gordale Scar // // and rest, and breathe so
s of loving.  // // Did I love enough? 
use every day?  // // Days for seeing you in different ways.  // // Da
e daily.  // // (Not by the sun // // —
use moontime // // instead).  // //
ck.  // // Reading a map now, I have to
use spectacles.  // // Carry them with me wherever I wander… but // /
made.  // // Those that they choose to
use // // to inform or confuse, // // elate or validate or grieve— /
/ // No.  No.  No.  No.  // // Dammit,
used them yesterday.  Must be somewhere.  // // Start again, from the
e, shelves no longer // // serving any
useful purpose.  // // The clutter covering the remainder of the bench
, or maybe short, // // patch pockets (
useless for cold hands), // // thick felted wool, a monk-like hood— /
of the containers // // once had other
uses .  The plastic boxes // // were made for slides or toothpowder, t
udith sees something in the shapes, and
using a charcoal stick, makes some small additions.  And it becomes a
is make connection // // alpha to beta
using this equation, // // then follow that suggestion // // to make
Using your Kettle // // Place the cordless base on a level firm
ples, for I am well of love.  // // The
usual translation is not raisins // // but flagons.  Flagons might in
from here, the future is changed // //
utterly .  And I have the scars // // to prove it.  // // The all-clea