Stan Is Stubborn
Once an inebriated stranger
in San Francisco on
the street in North Beach
said to me,
"Stan, is that you?"
"No," I said, "I'm sorry,
but I'm not Stan. "Oh," he
said, swaying delicately in
that way actors can never
capture, the white of his
eyes gone burgundy like
a Pacific sunset, "I was
afraid of that. . . . Stan
died 'n I guess he's gonna
stay dead. He always was
a stubborn son of a bitch."
Copyright 2011 Hans Ostrom
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Monday, January 3, 2011
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Saturday, January 1, 2011
New Year's Eve
New Year's Eve
it's New Year's Eve and
i'm lying in bed writing,
writing as usual. i start a
poem, then hear the phone,
get out of bed, and answer it.
the person calling
is a very close friend
and says, "i'm terribly
anxious now--i don't
know why--is everything
going to be okay?"
"yes," i answer, "it is."
my friend seems relieved.
soon the conversation ends.
i go back to bed. i'm wearing
a white oxford-cloth, button-
down shirt, not pajamas.
there are 7 books on the bed
and debris. i start to write again.
it's almost New Year's Day,
and everything is going
to be okay, if i'm right,
and if i'm wrong.
Copyright 2011 Hans Ostrom
it's New Year's Eve and
i'm lying in bed writing,
writing as usual. i start a
poem, then hear the phone,
get out of bed, and answer it.
the person calling
is a very close friend
and says, "i'm terribly
anxious now--i don't
know why--is everything
going to be okay?"
"yes," i answer, "it is."
my friend seems relieved.
soon the conversation ends.
i go back to bed. i'm wearing
a white oxford-cloth, button-
down shirt, not pajamas.
there are 7 books on the bed
and debris. i start to write again.
it's almost New Year's Day,
and everything is going
to be okay, if i'm right,
and if i'm wrong.
Copyright 2011 Hans Ostrom
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