Tuesday, August 29, 2023
Monday, August 28, 2023
It May Be Called Here-And-Now
I'm always here--
in this body,mortgaged to
this place called
Earth. My mind
pretends to
travel on its own
(what a dreamer),
riding off into
its lands of past,
its realms of fantasy,
its rages of ambition
and gripped greed.
It must of course
always return
(until the End, when
it will just go to Stop).
When it's wise,
Mind settles, it
and body in a still
embrace, a loose
duet
amidst the mystery
and flow of Now.
hans ostrom 2023
Bach: Goldberg Variations
Icicles leap off eaves,
land and dancein geometric patterns.
Fractals fly in squadrons,
dropping musical notes
on plowed furrows.
Now toy soldiers march
across a bright stage &
a ballerina flutters
round them like a butterfly.
Oh, piano! You really will
do anything
the fingers, hands,
heart, head, ears,
and art ask of you.
hans ostrom 2023
The Forest Belongs to the Forest
Inside a cabin
surrounded by Sierra forest,we watch creatures
outside look at and into
the cabin. Sauntering,
nibbling grass, a doe
and two fawns stare
at us through a window.
Same goes for pine
squirrels, who leap
from tree to tree;
and for ground squirrels,
with their white
collars and flea-bedeviled
fur. And Steller's jays,
corvids with deep blue
bodies and black heads
& wild-mad-laugh cackles.
And at evening, a bear,
chief executive of the woods,
walks past, sniffing, slobbering,
almost not bothering
to look toward us.
hans ostrom 2023
Sunday, August 27, 2023
Friday, August 25, 2023
Wednesday, August 23, 2023
"Dive In," by Roger Illsley
Roger and I decided to work on a reggae song. He did the heavy lifting. I just helped with some of the lyrics:
Crossing the Sierra Valley
Rolling through the scuffed
micro-towns of Vinton and Chilcoot,we get to a panorama
of the Sierra Valley--biggest
high-altitude plain in these mountains.
Golden light that's slipped past
thunderheads makes the Valley
glow like a cathedral floor. Now
the thunderheads drape blue
curtains of showers on
surrounding mountains.
We'll cross the Valley, then
take the highway's snaking
curves up a thousand feet
to Yuba Pass & from there
weave down to where the giant
blue massif of rock, the Sierra
Buttes, presents itself &
when I see it, I get a home
feeling even though I haven't
lived there for decades. I'm glad,
so glad, to see pockets of snow
up there in August.
hans ostrom
Tuesday, August 22, 2023
She Recalls the Airport in Sacramento
She remembers
sitting stoned in the Sacramentoairport, which in no way
seemed excited about air travel.
To her, the jetways looked
like rectangular caterpillars
with accordions
in place of heads: polka!
People getting off airplanes
seemed like tourists
returned from Dante's Hell,
only scuffed, but disappointed.
Some endless minutes saw
her mind go blank like a TV
that received but could not
broadcast or stream.
Airplanes napped in weird
corners of the tarmac.
Gate agents spoke
laconically on the intercom.
Contagious yawning rippled
among waiting travelers.
Sacramento: an airport next
to farmland--relaxed, unimportant,
laid all the way back--all, all
the way back, she recalls
through glazed windows of the mind.
hans ostrom 2023
Thursday, August 10, 2023
Wednesday, August 9, 2023
Tuesday, August 8, 2023
Monday, August 7, 2023
Sunday, August 6, 2023
Thursday, August 3, 2023
Wednesday, August 2, 2023
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