Conductors, You and I

Me and you, protons

and electrons through and 

through atoms that compose

our noses and toes. We

give off light and heat, you

know, of course you know,

oh omnivorous power plants

are we as we with our flows

of energy, heating each other

up in beds and other close

quarters, which is why

windows of cars and buses

fog up and sweat and even

trickle tears. Conductor

of electricity, today I shall try

to sluice my energy

appropriately in public and in

this wired-up, copper-webbed

abode, this wireless, fireless

cave. It's kind of exciting

to my neurons to have a bit

of lightning coursing through

what one calls one's brain,

which rewires itself in sleep to dream.

Hans Ostrom 2024

Neuron Rogues

Images from anywhere--

dark wet street meets
moon-faced flea-market
vendor meets mandolin
and fire: this is dream--

freed from time because
a sleeping brain is off the clock,
its rogue crew of neurons
free to cook a dewy stew and eat it
behind a turquoise waterfall
or in a plaid nylon shack.

Dreaming's a freedom
one's will can't boss--
a cinema playing beside itself.

And the Feelings Thus Conjured

She's dipping her hands in the paint
that neuron networks manufacture.
She's rising from sleep and adorning
the darkness with bright looping
smears her fingertips eject.

The fog shows up, a loose collection
of gray blobs held inside a pale
amorphous balloon. There is a sound
of grinding, a sound of grinding,
a grinding, a sound. She says to no one,

"Sing with me: 'I am stuck on 
the balcony of REM sleep . . .!'"
We don't have to call it anything, you
know. We can just experience it
and the feelings thus conjured,

and live an entire lifetime
there in a mind-sponsored moment.


hans ostrom 2017