Friday, December 5, 2025
Thursday, December 4, 2025
Wednesday, December 3, 2025
Sunday, November 30, 2025
Saturday, November 29, 2025
Friday, November 28, 2025
Thursday, November 27, 2025
Wednesday, November 26, 2025
Tuesday, November 25, 2025
The Christmas Ornaments Convene
A white angel, a black angel,
three black Santa Clauses. An angel
made of a toilet paper cylinder,child's cardboard craft. Ornaments
made of beer-can aluminum,
glass ornaments from Aunt Nevada,
who loaded the mincemeat pie
with whiskey every year. A blue
sphere or two, survivors
from Christmases way-past
when Ma insisted on her blue tree
every year. A pink motorcycle,
a wooden elf who jumps
like a Cossack dancer
when you pull a string. A horse,
a cat, a crystal icicle. Red bird,
yellow bird, peacock. . . . This
is an annual reunion of ornaments,
who approve the minutes
from last year, chat while we're asleep,
stay cool with the LED lights
on an artificial tree;
who serve as metonyms
for clusters of nostalgia, loss,
and tattered joy. What about Jesus?
Well, he's there implicitly in
the eclectic hospitality.
hans ostrom 2023/2025
Monday, November 24, 2025
Sunday, November 23, 2025
Saturday, November 22, 2025
Friday, November 21, 2025
Thursday, November 20, 2025
Wednesday, November 19, 2025
Tuesday, November 18, 2025
Monday, November 17, 2025
Sunday, November 16, 2025
Saturday, November 15, 2025
Friday, November 14, 2025
Thursday, November 13, 2025
Wednesday, November 12, 2025
Tuesday, November 11, 2025
Monday, November 10, 2025
Sunday, November 9, 2025
Saturday, November 8, 2025
Friday, November 7, 2025
Thursday, November 6, 2025
Monday, November 3, 2025
Sunday, November 2, 2025
Saturday, November 1, 2025
Friday, October 31, 2025
Monday, October 27, 2025
Saturday, October 25, 2025
Friday, October 24, 2025
The Epidemiolgy of Hate
If only we could vaccinate
against hate.It's the constant plague. It leaves
each era a wreck,
and from each new wreck
more hate mutates.
Consider the hate you hear
every day in common discourse,
in how our "leaders" talk to each
other about people they imagine
to be us. Language
becomes black bile. Vile
stratagems go viral.
No mass-cure for hate exists.
Individuals must treat themselves,
must get to know how to learn.
Must go inside themselves, scrub
the mind, and think. Must
choose to get better; or
at least not worse.
To witness the pleasure of hate
play on faces and turn person-herds
rabid is to glimpse evil's vectors
and hosts. People, witness what
hate does to you, to them. Change.
Wednesday, October 22, 2025
Tuesday, October 21, 2025
Monday, October 20, 2025
Sunday, October 19, 2025
Saturday, October 18, 2025
Friday, October 17, 2025
Thursday, October 16, 2025
Wednesday, October 15, 2025
Tuesday, October 14, 2025
Monday, October 13, 2025
Saturday, October 11, 2025
Friday, October 10, 2025
Thursday, October 9, 2025
Wednesday, October 8, 2025
Tuesday, October 7, 2025
Monday, October 6, 2025
Saturday, October 4, 2025
Friday, October 3, 2025
Thursday, October 2, 2025
Wednesday, October 1, 2025
Tuesday, September 30, 2025
Monday, September 29, 2025
Sunday, September 28, 2025
Friday, September 26, 2025
Tuesday, September 23, 2025
Monday, September 22, 2025
Sunday, September 21, 2025
Saturday, September 20, 2025
Friday, September 19, 2025
Thursday, September 18, 2025
Wednesday, September 17, 2025
Tuesday, September 16, 2025
Monday, September 15, 2025
Sunday, September 14, 2025
Saturday, September 13, 2025
Friday, September 12, 2025
Thursday, September 11, 2025
Wednesday, September 10, 2025
Tuesday, September 9, 2025
Sunday, September 7, 2025
Saturday, September 6, 2025
Friday, September 5, 2025
Thursday, September 4, 2025
Tuesday, September 2, 2025
Monday, September 1, 2025
Sunday, August 31, 2025
Saturday, August 30, 2025
Friday, August 29, 2025
Thursday, August 28, 2025
Wednesday, August 27, 2025
Tuesday, August 26, 2025
Monday, August 25, 2025
Sunday, August 24, 2025
Saturday, August 23, 2025
Friday, August 22, 2025
Thursday, August 21, 2025
Tuesday, August 19, 2025
Monday, August 18, 2025
About Adam, Eve, Their Brains, and Their Living Situation
I'm no theologian,
but if God didn't wantEve and Adam to enjoy
sex, they wouldn't have
been naked adults
placed in a sunny natural
habitat. If God didn't want
them to know things,
their brains wouldn't
have been as powerful
as they were (with the
acknowledged limitations).
They be curious, folks.
hans ostrom 2025
Sunday, August 17, 2025
Saturday, August 16, 2025
Friday, August 15, 2025
Thursday, August 14, 2025
Wednesday, August 13, 2025
Tuesday, August 12, 2025
Monday, August 11, 2025
Sunday, August 10, 2025
Thursday, August 7, 2025
Wednesday, August 6, 2025
Tuesday, August 5, 2025
Mademoiselle, Where Are Your Clothes?
Mademoiselle,
Where are your clothes?
Should I remove mine,
Do you suppose?
You do enchant me,
My Mademoiselle.
I am inspired—
Can you tell?
Oh my dear,
Such a surprise.
I came home
And there you stood.
You stared at me
With your brown eyes.
Your nakedness
Looks very good.
Well, here we stand,
Without a stitch.
I do believe
We found our niche.
Oh, Mademoiselle,
Please lead the way.
I will of course do
What you say.
Mademoiselle,
You’re so risque.
I never know
Quite what to say.
hans ostrom 2025
Sunday, August 3, 2025
Saturday, August 2, 2025
Friday, August 1, 2025
Thursday, July 31, 2025
Tuesday, July 29, 2025
Monday, July 28, 2025
Sunday, July 27, 2025
Saturday, July 26, 2025
Awkwardly Social
To be socially
awkwardis to be
existentially
comic: or, bow slightly
while shaking the hand
of an American faux patrician
because their schtick,
like a witch, turns you
into a faux British-butler.
It's something to do with
mountain origins, your pop's
disdain for urbanity, your Cubist
collage of manners and inborn
suspicion that the most
well mannered people might
be serial killers, white supremacists,
that sort of beast, & your
certainty
that fate set you down
beyond or between customary
circles:
a question of placement. Ec-centric.
You're often outside,
on the pavement, nose to the glass,
staring at a Them, who
Know What They Are Doing.
hans ostrom 2025
Brother Season, Sister Season
Autumn, nicknamed Fall
(and what a come-down),
will ride back into town
soon. Under a half-moon's
green-light cloack.
She'll sew dew
and cut last flowers,
stuff them in her saddle
bags to rot. The smell
of her horse will set
the dogs to barking.
She'll stuff berries
into the bloated bellies
of fattening bears.
Again, she'll lose her temper,
yell, "To Hell with leaves,
I never liked them."
Finally, her mature brother,
Winter, will stomp in wearing
white boots and an ice-cape.
"Get gone, Sister," he'll say,
direct and cold. "Come back
after next Summer. Drop a note
from South America.
hans ostrom 2025
Friday, July 25, 2025
Thursday, July 24, 2025
Wednesday, July 23, 2025
Sunday, July 20, 2025
Wednesday, July 16, 2025
Monday, July 14, 2025
Sunday, July 13, 2025
Saturday, July 12, 2025
Thursday, July 10, 2025
Sunday, July 6, 2025
Saturday, July 5, 2025
Thursday, July 3, 2025
Wednesday, July 2, 2025
Tuesday, July 1, 2025
Monday, June 30, 2025
The Dog in MInd
Your thoughts become
a flock of sheepdistracting you
from needed sleep.
You ask a dog in mind
to run sheep off a cliff.
The dog just barks and
barks: as if, as if as if.
hans ostrom 2025
It's Fine, Just Fine
By an old guy's standards,
a hot day on the Pacific Coast.
Heat cooks the sky
to an ashen blue.
I work in the garden some.
Gardeners volunteer
join the Sisyphus
crew. They toil through
myriad cycles that roll
around to starts. Water,
soil, sun, seed, sprout,
plant, blossom, veg, fruit.
Dig and pull and lift and tend.
It all collapses like a circus
tent. Winter eats leftovers,
belches frost. In Spring,
it's Finnegan Begin-Again.
Heavy mud, dead stalks.
In the now, I fall back
into a chair, guzzle water,
dash some on my face
and neck. A crow lands
on a wire and keeps its
beak open to let heat
out of its body. The bird
and I just happen to be
now here in this tiny wedge
of nature. We finish
tasks as assigned,
and it's fine, just fine.
You and me, bird, you
and me and that
minor, muscled god
whose name hisses.
hans ostrom 2025
Sunday, June 29, 2025
Saturday, June 28, 2025
Thursday, June 26, 2025
Wednesday, June 25, 2025
Tuesday, June 24, 2025
Monday, June 23, 2025
Saturday, June 21, 2025
Tuesday, June 17, 2025
Monday, June 16, 2025
Sunday, June 15, 2025
Thursday, June 12, 2025
The Derelicts and the Rules
I walk the dirt-path loop around
Wright Park, Tacoma, & I'm get-ting into stride & then I hear the steps
behind me: they're far too purposeful--
I sense aggression. And with dog in tow
a man comes up beside me. His face, I think,
unkindly, looks like an angry boil.
His rant: "Good morning, sir, hey did
you see the derelicts down there? No one's
supposed to sleep inside the park at night!
They need to clear them out! If all of us
don't follow rules, anarchy's bound to rise.
And sir, you'd better store your food and
medicine--sufficient for two weeks! You
hear those helicopters overhead? 'They'
are about to shut It down!"
And then the guy plus dog are past
me--gone. After the walk I go
for groceries. And there's the cashier with
the close-cropped hair--for she's just gone
though chemo treatment. The line is stuck
because her customer is having issues with
her credit card.
My turn at last.
"So sorry for the wait," she says.
I say, "No problem, it's okay,"
and she responds, "You know,
you have to help somebody sometimes."
Now there's a rule that we might follow--
oh, yes, a sentimental thought. But still
unless you're building shelter for unsheltered
folk, you'd better let the "derelicts"
sleep where they can. I go outside
with groceries, don't hear the helicopters.
hans ostrom 2025
Sunday, June 8, 2025
Thursday, June 5, 2025
Monday, June 2, 2025
Beauty School
At the Medford, Oregon, airport,
the Sky House Bar and Grill(one floor up) looks past runways
to flat baked grass and green,
lumpy hills. The server
says she's going to Beauty
School--which takes me back
to when women went to
"beauty shops," not salons
or spas. I hope she earns
a Ph.D. in Beauty and becomes
a noted scholar in the field.
Her ways, wit, and face
suggest she has the aptitude.
hans ostrom 2025
Shakespeare's Flow
(At the Oregon Shakespeare Festival,
Ashland, Oregon)
Lithia Creek pours out
of Oregon springs and stair-step-rolls over dark boulders.
Its braided riffles ruffle foam,
then ease into pools. All
the trees--alder, cedar, oak,
fir, sycamore--drip dappled light
on the eager stream. It's a big
creek, known to flood,
and as it flattens, it runs
through Ashland, where
Shakespeare's plays
migrated to Far West 90
years ago and found stages
in a snug valley. Shakespeare's
language, rhythms, wit, wonder,
and knowing pour forth from
an eternal spring, it seems,
and feed streams of drama
& reading round and round
the planet--in how many idioms?
hans ostrom 2025
Saturday, May 31, 2025
Oregon Bartender
Ashland, Oregon
Pretty young and pretty,
she wears faded Levis
sans belt and a sleeveless
shirt. Blue arm tattoos
include butterflies and
vines and a cube with
a heart inside one box.
"It gets s-o-o-o hot
in Ashland in August,"
she says, going nearly
baritone for "so."
Blue bartender-eyes
don't miss a trick. She says
she tried a city--Portland
--but came back to Ashland
as most do. Oh, what
would William Shakespeare
do with you? I wonder
to myself. She sets a
mocktail mojito before
me on dark wood. I
think he would do something
spritely with her--
mischievous.
hans ostrom 2025
Knuckle Skin
It's fine how skin
over knuckles bunches
like upholstery. Or like
a stack of wrinkles.
Epidermal accordions?
Bend a finger, the skin
smoothes itself, stretches
tight. Nice! I would like to
leave you with a final
pronouncment on knuckle
skin but I can't think of one
and anyway knuckle skin
is such a personal topic.
hans ostrom 2025
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