Swedish Band Panda

Here is a link to a youtube video featuring the music of a Swedish band, Panda:

Swedish band

Self-Portrait With Assistance From Creatures

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Self-Portrait With Assistance From Creatures

as guileless as a worm
as alarmist as a rooster
as blank as an owl
as relentless as a wolverine
as listless as a toad
as worried as a squirrel
as distracted as a cat
as languorous as a bear
as focused as a fox
as garrulous as a hound
as ordinary as a beetle
as deluded as a moth
as determined as a badger
as morose as a sloth
as patient as an ox
as hurried as a hummingbird
as constant as a swallow
as feckless as a frog
as lost as a mole
as devious as a raccoon
as direct as a bee
as sad as a salamander
as overwhelmed as a trout
as philosophical as mule
as gluttonous as a snake
as wary as a coyote
as common as a fly
as confused as a human


Copyright 2010 Hans Ostrom

Auden on American Work

An observation by poet W.H. Auden concerning Americans and work:

A tremendous number of people in America work very hard at something that bores them. Even a rich man thinks he has to go down to the office everyday. Not because he likes it but because he can't think of anything else to do.

Best-Selling Books of Poetry, 2009

Here is a link to a list of the top 10 best-selling books of poetry in the U.S. in 2009. It's an interesting mix of books. I have no idea how many copies these books sold.

Nevada's Poet Laureate?

When I bought groceries today, the cashier said to a person ahead of me, "One of our customers keeps winning scratch [lottery] games. He said he's not a compulsive gambler. I told him, 'Neither am I. Do you want to bet on it?'" --Waggish humor as one purchases victuals: a good thing.

But it made me wonder if the State of Nevada has a Poet Laureate. Answer: no. The position is vacant. In case anyone from Nevada happens to be reading this, I'm available. My qualifications are that I'm a poet and that I grew up not far (as the crow flies) from Nevada. One of my favorite towns is Reno. I'd be glad to write poems about Nevada, which put the "Nevada" in Sierra Nevada, or something like that.

Apparently the last Poet Laureate from Nevada served for over a decade but left office in 1976 (?). His name is Norman Kaye. What I found on amazon.com by Mr. Kaye is The Nevada Songbook, published by Vic Vegas Publishing. How great is that publisher's name?

Goodnight, Vic Vegas, wherever you are.

Narrative Poems

In 2004, Story Line Press published Story Hour: Contemporary American Narrative Poems, edited by Sonny Williams. The anthology includes poems by Robert Penn Warren, Elizabeth Bishop, Gwendolyn Brooks, Richard Wilbur, Etheridge Knight, George Keithley, Yusef Komunyakaa, R.S. Gwynn, Rachel Hadas, Kate Daniels, Robert McDowell, Gjertrud Schnackenberg, David Wojahn, Kim Addonizio, David Mason, Mary Jo Salter, Mary Swander, Russell Edson, Beth Joselow, Lawson Inada, George Hitchcock, Philip Levine, Garrett Hongo, and many other poets (325 pages).

Here is a link to more information about the book:

Narrative Poems

What The Trees Mean

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What The Trees Mean

The redwood trees mean I can stop
worrying about how important my work
is. When my toil's results are compost,
redwoods will still be. A manzanita
bush means tenacity. Fire propagates
this species, no kidding. The beech
tree says something about peace. Listen.
Old scraggly scrub-pines report that
not every conifer can be a celebrity.
I just might patrol a leafy avenue
in this city or that, or wander into
a copse, maybe drop into an old forest.
Maybe I'll read more trees, see
what stories they suggest.


Copyright 2010 Hans Ostrom

Short, Ornery Month

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Short, Ornery Month

Skies got blue-black all
of a sudden: one of February's
traits. Wind behave like a cold
saw. A robin perched on the roof
of something gray, looked chilled
and bewildered: migrating too soon?

Change is difficult or too easy,
slow or too fast. Consider the planet,
hunks o its huge hide constantly
contending. Ask the powerless. They
know about less-than-optimal. Or

interview February in your hometown
and deal with its difficult answers.
Maybe that's why they cut this month
short a few days back then. Maybe indeed
the moon preferred March's attitude.


Copyright February 2010 Hans Ostrom

What Is Happening

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What Is Happening

The universe passes through you, so there's
that to ponder as you wait to get your teeth
drilled or to be told you're not right for
the job for which you're right. Light
form stars they claim are dead settles
on your retinae, goes somewhere, has to.
Then there's the oxygen, nitrogen, and carbon
we process. My friends, we're sieves and filters.
We're right for the job. Life passes through
us and we through it. Atoms maniacally rearrange.
Wind in aspens, wind in hair. Galaxies
spiral as you sit in a chair.


Copyright 2010 Hans Ostrom

Different Isn't Stupid

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Different Isn't Stupid

Different from you isn't necessarily
stupid and may well be a kind of smart
you'd do well to study, as you study, if
you will study, yourself. Will you?

Hey, your judge-o-meter's really
wound up--too many rpm's, reactions
per moment. Do you smell smoke? Hey,
consider your own patch of ground:

not perfect, yes? Maybe it is even
stupid in someone's eyes. Have you
noticed the wise? They judge--well,
judiciously. Reticently. Come now,

let us speak of what we know,
and of how little we know.
That's better. That's not stupid.
That is better.


Copyright 2010 Hans Ostrom

Clear A Place For Good

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Clear a Place For Good

Make room for something good to happen. Clear
a place--there, perhaps, on a purple divan; or
here, on a warm, flat rock. Yes, of course,
nothing good may arrive, in which case you

may occupy the place yourself and call it good.
You may watch as something good happens in that
space you just vacated. It doesn't always work
this way. Still, make some room. Some room for good.



Copyright 2010 Hans Ostrom

Latino/Hispanic Writers

Here is a link to a useful site about Latino/Latina/Hispanic writers:


Latino/Hispanic

Johnny Cash's Birthday

Johnny Cash would have been 78 today--an amusing number to me because I first heard his recordings via 78 rpm records my father brought home from a saloon in the High Sierra. A carpenter and stone mason by day, my father took a second job tending bar, and when it was time to replace records in the jukebox, he brought the discards home--including the 78's of "Folsom Prison Blues" and "Ballad of a Teenage Queen." Young as I was, I sensed immediately the uniqueness of Cash's voice, style, and persona. I still can't think of another artist who occupies a niche between African American delta music, Appalachian folk music, electrified country music of the 1950s, and Memphis rockabilly so originally and so forcefully; there was also more than a hint of reggae and ska in what he produced sometimes (he owned a house in Jamaica). I also think he had a great ear and eye for the poetry of popular lyrics, and he seemed unamused by lyrics from the ultra-commercial pop and Nashville machines. He did, however, like to sell records himself; no doubt about that. A link to "his" site:

Johnny Cash