Wednesday, April 18, 2012

Dotted Man

He was sitting in the waiting room
of the dermatologist's office, there
for his annual scan.  Ten years
earlier, melanoma had appeared.
A surgeon had carved it out of his leg.

"I've brought my moles with me,"
he thought. "--The brown, the black-
brown, the raised, the flat, the cherry
red.  I am," he thought, "a dotted man."

A woman came into the office.
Her hair was yellowish orange.
She ordered a bottle of special
shampoo. To the receptionist,
she said, "And I'm not homeless
anymore!"  The man saw immediately

how rare and grand it was
to have an abode to return to.
To have an incoming stream
of the magical symbol, money.
to have a fed body dotted
with moles.  To be ten years
out from melanoma.

He wanted to share his good news,
as the woman had done.  He
admired her. He wanted to cry,
"My body is covered with a
wide variety of moles, and I
have a warm shelter to go to!"

But he remained silent. The
woman left. He picked up
a month-old magazine
about nature.


--Hans Ostrom

The Obscurity Zone

Okay, Mr. Tobbs. This is it.
This is your last chance before
you die to become famous.
Ready? Go!

Well, your score was better
than before, Mr. Tobbs,
but I'm afraid once again
you didn't pass.  See right
here? According to the chart,
your score is still well
within the Obscurity Zone.


Copyright 2012

"The Goddess In The Wood," by Rupert Brooke

Friday, April 13, 2012

"Breathless," by Al-Saddiq Al-Raddi

Bank Statement

I opened up my bank-statement (I
like it still on paper).  It stated:
"This amount is some pitiful shit."

It went on to say, "Man, you got
to get a lot more, and you got
to keep what you get."

The statement ended with this:
"Meanwhile, we'll lend to others
this pitiful amount, make a
percentage, and charge you
fees.  See how it's done?
Love, the Bank."



Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom

Wednesday, April 11, 2012

Titles of Poems I've Never Tried to Write

(but be my guest)


The Tahiti Concerto
Guitar Strings and Hunger
Coleman Hawkins and Edgar Allan Poe
Asphalt Catfish
American History Bombing
A Swedish Interrogative
I Can't Know What It's Like
Right On, Off, On, Off
Give Chance a Peace
Gambling With Frogs
The Home Shopping Network Visits Plato's Republic
What Should I Do?
Clues to Your Beauty
The Ruling Class Doesn't Like to Lose
Go Deconstruct Yourself
Christians and Guns
Always Afraid
The Rabbi Writes Poetry
May I Live Forever in One Summer, Please?

Monday, April 9, 2012

"Sonnet 145," by William Shakespeare

Sled Dog

Yeah, I'm lying down.
Feed me or don't.  In a pinch,
I can eat you. What I know is,
white man in another creature's
fur, if the sled's going to be pulled
across this idiotic white expanse,
you're going to have to pull it
yourself. I'm done. We're done.
You never thought dogs would
go on strike. To us, freezing or
starving to death look like a
vacation. What do they look like
to you, Boss, as you shiver
and yell and try to get a
signal for your phone?


Hans Ostrom
copyright 2012

Friday, April 6, 2012

Mister Lincoln Rose

A wee fist comes out
of a Mister Lincoln rose,
taps your nose.

You hear a voice, which purrs,
slurs like a kind, formidable,
boozy perfumed aunt: "This,
kiddo, is what a rose
is supposed to smell like. Not
like the nothing-blooms in
the goddamned florist's deep-freeze."


Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

Wendy Perriam: New Books Out

British novelist and short-story writer Wendy Perriam has two new books out.  One is actually the paperback edition of a fine novel published in 2010: BROKEN PLACES, which concerns--in part--libraries.  A witty, deft writer, Perriam has been compared to Martin Amis.

The other book, "I'm On the Train!", is a new collection of stories.

Here's a link to amazon, where you may also take a look at Wendy's other novels and collections:

http://www.amazon.com/Broken-Places-Wendy-Perriam/dp/0709090986/ref=sr_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1333548606&sr=1-3

Sunday, April 1, 2012

Crime Novel Set in the Sierra

My first published novel was also my first published crime, or detective, novel.  It is set in a small county in the Sierra Nevada of California.  It's called THREE TO GET READY.  Here's how little I knew about the inner workings of the mystery/crime/detective genre back then: When I got a copy of a favorable review of the book, I noticed that the reviewer called it a "procedural," which refers to a crime novel in which the detective/protagonist is a professional.  As my protagonist is a sheriff, my novel is a "procedural."  I said to my wife, "Honey, I wrote a 'procedural'!"

Anyway, the novel is now available at what I imagine to be a reasonable price--$3.95--on Kindle:

http://www.amazon.com/Three-To-Get-Ready-ebook/dp/B007QMHUSA/ref=sr_1_cc_1?s=aps&ie=UTF8&qid=1333329396&sr=1-1-catcorr

"Destiny," by Oktay Rifat

Friday, March 30, 2012

"Pronouns," by Dunya Mikhail

Red: A Book: 82. Lois And The Greatness of American Poetry

Red: A Book: 82. Lois And The Greatness of American Poetry: Lois read where some noted assessor of poetry had opined that American poetry was in danger of losing its "greatness.' She was relieved to ...

Red: A Book: 188. Meatloaf Writers Conference

Red: A Book: 188. Meatloaf Writers Conference: At the Meatloaf Writers Conference, famous authors call each other by nicknames and speak in complacent ironies. A homeless man sneaks int...

Red: A Book: 139. She Was Just Out of the Bath

Red: A Book: 139. She Was Just Out of the Bath: Not long out of the bath, she wore a robe. She sat back in their favorite chair, expansive and plush, and he sat on the floor, painting her ...

Red: A Book: 136. Hiram Muses Priapically

Red: A Book: 136. Hiram Muses Priapically: Hiram found himself moved to muse on his phallus. He, too, thought the subject tedious, and yet there he was, musing on it. Hiram's cock h...

On the Death of Icons

 for C.M


The ones who helped to stitch together
the fabric of your world--
maybe they sang and strummed,
played games professionally,
acted, stood in the hell of politics
speaking of heaven, wrote a poem
or book you fell into, or by some other
means told you who you were and
weren't.  When another one of these goes

over the falls that drop into no pool forever,
you find yourself in a narrow canyon, all
alone, as bewildered as a child, increasingly
indifferent to the path that leads
you out of there.

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

"Wind's Bride," by Heinz Piontek

Emily Dickinson on Twitter

I'll leave it to
my forest friends
to tweet --
mellifluent --
and brief --
and often sweet.

Their message
stays the same --
"We are! We are!"
They travel here --
each spring --
from very far.

Of PC -- of Mac --
of Twitter account --
they have no need.
Just throat --
and beak -- and tiny
tongue for reed.


Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom

To the Makery

Got to get me down
to the makery
to make something,

something to serve
as an antidote
and a spirit-tote,
to act as a counter-to
to all this fakery.

Got to stay hey
miles away from
that damned hatery,
where crowds go now
to get their menace on.
That's one muther of a
bad drug, hate.
It will kill you but sometimes
only after you
kill somebody else.

If you want, we can go
to the lakery. We can
visit with wise catfish,
cool down our bodies
and our souls, get away from
the most of the everybody.
And after we're cool,
we can get down
to the makery.

Copyright 2012

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

"A Couple," by May Swenson

Men Suffering A Drop-Off




By Hans Ostrom

 “Something is happening to men—their penises are falling off.”   That’s the first line from a synopsis of my new novel, Without One, which is available inexpensively on Kindle, free to Kindle Prime members:


Link: Without One on Kindle 

The premise of the novel is that a strange new microbial plague strikes in the near future.  Although the microbe is a flesh-eater, it has a modest appetite.  It devours men’s penises but is self-limiting and stops there, leaving those affected healthy again but obviously not whole.   At any rate, the plague soon gets its own acronym: RAPIDS: RAPID PENILE DEGENERATION SYNDROME, and RAPIDS, as they say in Twitter-Land, is trending. 

When I started writing the novel, I didn’t think the premise was all that outlandish, given the history of satire.  Gulliver’s Travels does some wild things with the body, for example, and more particularly, the protagonist and narrator of Tristram Shandy has his own phallic issues.  I thought the comic, satiric, and farcical implications of such a premise would allow people to move quickly beyond certain gruesome images that might spring to mind, and as I constructed the plot, I kept the gory details to a minimum.

But I had a heck of a time getting agents and editors interested in the book.  One well-known agent who prides himself on being open to the most fantastical plots and premises wrote back and said, “Sorry—too much, even for me.”  A less well-known agent—another male—wrote that he couldn’t possibly represent the book because he had a morbid fear of castration.  My response, which I didn’t share with him, was, well, doesn’t that mean the book is marketable?  I didn’t see the novel as horror fiction, but horror fiction exploits people’s fears in a fictionally safe way, right?  

Now, however, I think I have more reason to indulge in the fantasy that Without One is a book whose time has arrived, and I have the GOP to thank.   They’re determined to politicize genitalia and sexuality. True, they focus exclusively on women’s private parts, not to mention their private rights.  Apparently nothing to do with female sexuality is sacred to them.  In a roundabout way, via the issue of gay marriage, they get around to male sexuality, but they are positively obsessed with controlling women’s bodies, in my opinion.

But if you’ll notice, they don’t touch the penis, so to speak.   If males want to buy contraception, they’re free to do so, without being forced to watch videos, have their penises undergo a sonogram, or tell their bosses why they’re buying condoms. (“Uh, we’re going to make water-balloons out of them.”) 
 
According to the GOP view, men are also free to impregnate a woman and then have her suffer all the consequences, have her choices about how to handle the pregnancy limited, and so on.  The GOP’s  logic concerning contraception—you’d think that, if they’re against abortion, they’d be for contraception—makes an Escher print look realistic. 

So it’s high time, I argue, imitating the self-serving logic of the GOP, that we had a novel that shifts the focus from women and puts it on the masculine member.
 
Without One follows an ensemble cast of sufferers, journalists, doctors, epidemiologists, evangelical preachers, activists, conspiracy-theorists as society struggles to come to grips, as it were, with RAPIDS, which has almost everyone reconsidering what it means to be a man if the man suffers a drop-off.   The tale goes all the way to Washington D.C., where it takes a detour around the wounded Washington Monument  and amble to the White House, where the president—one Luther De Long—has reason to suspect he’s been exposed to RAPIDS.  

Is he a Republican or a Democrat?  The novel doesn’t say—because RAPIDS doesn’t respect such boundaries.  Respect boundaries: what a concept.

Published by Congruent Angle Press, Without One is available for download to Kindle on amazon.com.

Hans Ostrom is a poet, novelist, and screenwriter.  With Michael Kerr, he co-wrote the script for the soon-to-be-filmed romantic thriller, “NAPA,” starring Rose McGowan, Sean Astin, and Kevin Pollack.  He teaches at the University of Puget Sound, Tacoma, Wash.

Tuesday, March 6, 2012

The Literary Agents Speak to the Novelists

* Although the writing is good, the characters strong, and the story compelling, I just didn't fall in love with the book.  Also, I'm dating another book right now.

* Given the market for fiction right now, I don't feel I can successfully represent this book.  Your book's like a little piggy that's not going to market!

* I found your characters to be one-dimensional like the paper they were written on.  I simply wasn't drawn into the story in a two-dimensional way. I used to study art. My favorite color is red. I went to Vassar. I live in Brooklyn.

* Thank you for the opportunity to read your novel. I don't feel I'm the best agent to represent it. I wish you much success. Being a writer, you must find some perverse appeal to this robotic kind of rejection.

* Thank you for your query.  Due to the overwhelming number of queries we receive, we are overwhelmed. Unfortunately, we represent a small number of established clients, as opposed to an established number of small clients. Wait--I mean "fortunately."  Therefore we must pass on the opportunity to represent you.  We are passing.

* I used to like reading novels. Now I hate it. I have lunch with famous writers. I hate that, too. My favorite novel was published in 1951. I still masturbate to it. Editors are insufferable.  New York is expensive, loud, crowded, and dirty. Help!

* You think Ingvold is an interesting character.  We don't. In fact, we had a good laugh when I read the sentences describing him out loud.  How can you stand to live on the West Coast? Isn't that almost China? Who names characters "Ingvold"? Ew.

* I'm afraid I lost interest in the book halfway through. I also lost the pages from the second half. Sorry.  Good luck!  I start drinking gin at noon every day.

* Your novel contains references to several different kinds of blades. I couldn't possibly represent it because I have a terrible fear of castration.

* I wasn't offended at all by your premise, unusual though it is. I just don't want to represent the book. I love being so picky! Ha, ha, ha!

* I've never heard of you. No one I know has heard of you. Where did you get your MFA?  Did you get an MFA? Who do you know? The novel may be good, but I don't have time to read it, and no one's ever heard of you. Are you in Witness Protection?  We represent celebrity novelists with multi-platform appeal that we can leverage. Am I getting through to you?

The Situation

even if you believe in a
divine ordering, you have to feel
the absurdity of our wee
ball-bearing, which spins
in a corner of infinity.
there's no way

to make sense of the situation,
so you just live in the situation
as you find it. i will not say God

isn't. how could i know that?
us and our "minds": ha!

this is one unfathomable
situation, this situation of
ours, for sure.


Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom

E.B.B.'s birthday

I hear it's Elizabeth Barrett Browning's birthday today.  Here's a link to a recording of her poem called "Love" (not the ultra-famous sonnet, by the way):

LINK

Monday, March 5, 2012

Literary Spat

A noted literary critic writing
a scathing review of a poetry anthology
edited by a noted poet does have
the sheen of a fresh gleaming
hound's turd--this much is true.

Also true is that review, critic,
poet, anthology, and opinions
about opinions will dessicate
as rapidly as the hound's deposit,

turn chalky white,
then go to fine dust,
which is then worked
into soil by water
from a noted rainstorm.


Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom

Relatiionship Weather Report




Take a look at our radar map,
and you'll see that by tomorrow morning,
a low-pressure area will move in
over our relationship.

This could create some moisture
by mid-day, in the form of tears
and perspiration.  As we get further
into the week, the temperature

between us will drop, and by week's
end, we could be seeing an extreme-
relationship-warning. There is a 50%
chance of a break-up by Saturday,

so you'll want to dress 
appropriately. Please visit our
me-and-you-ologist's site for 
up-to-the-minute information. 


Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom



A Casino




A casino's like Heaven.
Everyone's from somewhere else
and they focus on metaphysics:
chance, fate, grace, fortune,
and suspension of time.

It is like Hell.
It accelerates desire,
distracts from rest.
Crowds circulate
zombically, and sounds
of jangling mocks music.
Theft jeers kindness.

A casino's like us,
who pretend to be callous,
corrupt, and daring,
but who lack sufficient 
guile (and funds), tire
easily, and need to go
to the bathroom.

It banishes subtlety.
We love it for that.
It is humorless,
puritanically crass.
We don't forgive it that.
It is life. I always wins
because it never gambles.


Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

White Silence

*
*
*
*

White Silence

Emily, I love you, but some
truths can't be told slant.
This country's never made
right what it did and does
to Black folks. On that score,
its soul is rotten and always
will be until it makes things
right. Its edifices will forever
be without foundation until
it makes things right.

Emily, more White folks
need to break this White silence,
which covers the U.S. like
Antarctic ice. It is White folks
who must insist at last
that this nation face itself
at what it did, and what it does.

Copyright 2012

"Rattlesnake," by Brewster Ghiselin

Sunday, February 19, 2012

Fat Man on the Radio

*
*
*
*

Fat Man on the Radio

There's a fat man on the radio
who thinks he knows it all.
My truck is stuck out on I-5.
I'd settle for a crawl.

I have to get this load to Texas
or else I won't get paid.
The blowhard on the radio--
he won't come to my aid.

Fat man on the radio,
jerking people's chains.
The fat man: hell, he just
pretends to know our pains.

Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

"Sleep," by Langston Hughes

see so many just

*
*
*
*

see so many just

i see so many just
hanging on, or not,
staggering in wind
without a coat (as
TV heads mock
people-just-getting-
by); keeping upright
in a job while worrying,
weary, ill, afraid to miss
a shift, target, quota, goal.
see so many

ground down--
and the grinders:
well ensconced with
cosmetic surgery,
lawyers, gates, and
lies. see so many:

cubes and cubes of
housing, broken street
after broken street, &
slashed by alleys. something's
coming. don't know what.
maybe just more of
same. maybe reckoning--
a gray wind chasing
indifference and evil
across a plain full
of smoldering phones
and melted ear-buds.

see something staggering
in the cold, walking past
an empty police cruiser,
strolling toward a swarming
crowd, sound of cockroach-
scuttle coming out of
speakers. and a wailing.


Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom

Friday, February 10, 2012

"Youth and Beauty," by Al Akhtal

New Novel About a Bizarre Plague

So I finally published my most recent novel via Kindle. It is called WITHOUT ONE, and it concerns a bizarre epidemic that strikes in the near future and that hits men where they live--but otherwise let's them live.  One tag-line, so to speak, is "Something is happening to men; their penises are falling off."

Mostly droll satire, I'd say, with some pathos and comedy.  The ensemble-cast includes first sufferers, researchers, doctors, media-folk, conspiracy-theorists, and of course politicians, including the POTUS.

The disease is soon known as RAPIDS--Rapid Penile Degeneration Syndrome.

My favorite anecdote from my adventures in trying to find an agent for the book: A male agent responded almost immediately to the email query and wrote, "I couldn't possibly represent this book because I have a fear of castration."  Which was funny.  And which, to me, suggested the book might have some appeal.  Technically, the disease doesn't castrate, but I got his drift.  I think I apologized for scaring him, too.

Anyway, if you're not scared, and in the unlikely event you have time to read, sigh, another novel, and you like somewhat bizarre fiction, here is a link:


Without One

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

Anti-Epic

*
*
*
*

Anti-Epic


Here's a thought: stay home.
Quell grandiose ideas.
Let understanding invade you.

Consider all those people
and animals you won't kill.
Admit that whatever you

would seek doesn't exist--
revenge; a cup; glory.
Construct manageable

fantasies. You're an organism
that eats and sleeps. A deeper epic
lies in being nothing special.


Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom

Dog Outside a Bar

*
*
*
*


Dog Outside a Bar


Memory is loyalty
to something not there.
I sit outside the past
like a dog outside

a bar, and what
I'm waiting for went
out the back door
hours ago. I furrow

my brow and alert
my ears and eyes.
And I remember.
The future wants

to take me for a
walk. It hooks
a leash to my collar.
And here we go.


Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom

Monday, January 30, 2012

And On Forever

*
*
*



And On Forever


A brisk wind blowing
across a high mountain
meadow continues
after I imagine it, after
I die. It goes on and on
forever in that place.


Copyright 2012

Ghosts Are Comfortable

*
*
*
*
*

Ghosts Are Comfortable


When ghosts want to take a break
from ghosting, they sometimes visit
my place. They know I won't
expect anything from them--

not fright, news, melodramatic
Hamlet-crap, or broken dishes.

To be a ghost is to be
a permanent yearning.
It takes a lot of energy.
I've always understood
that about ghosts--
how hard they work.


Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom

Friday, January 27, 2012

Fact and Miracle

*
*
*
*

Fact and Miracle

The sun stays on
all the time. What
is the difference
between a fact
and a miracle?

I wonder how many
people around
this world tonight are
looking for proof of something.

If you are reading
this, then you are
alive, and that is
excellent news. What's
the difference between
a fact and a miracle?


Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom