Weather
Whereas some authors write within conceptual systems, suggesting them with their fragments, robertson casually passes over systems, ideals, ideas, suggestions of academic trends. They become objects in her poetry, her poetry is like a wind of objects. Somehow this poetry is commentary on contemporary philosophy but its hard to grasp. Almost concrete, almost conceptual, very stream of consciousness, is refined meditation an oxy-moron? Does Robertson really want to write philosophy but is too lazy so she writes SOC poetry?? Quite enjoyable, however too confusing, theres no reason to drop philosophical anecdotes into this kind of poetry, it lies in contrast with the function of the poetry.

