Sunday, December 10, 2023

Redlining in Tacoma

Aspects of Living in the Moment

I tried to "live in the moment,"
as recommended
& found that moments stuck
together like hard candies
in hot sun. Other moments
seem to pour in and out
of life like red ants out of
a sizzling nest. Some

moments just evaporate--
gone before I could 
even knock on their doors,
let alone live in them. Which
can be okay, as for instance
that moment in the dark
when I stubbed three toes
on an old oak chair. 


hans ostrom 2023

Tuesday, December 5, 2023

Broken Airport

 The terminal takes its name literally,
is a disintegrating destination.
Flights cancelled, transport stuck.
Even a nun mouths the word, "Fuck."

Inside haggard people and swollen luggage
congeal like snow outside. The enraged become
resigned; the patient, stupefied. Jabbed
and punched by questions, employees
in company colors look like boxers
in late rounds. Everyone begins to resemble

everyone else. Distinctive personalities
melt into smeared canvas of weariness,
smothered rage, drunkenness, and hysteria.

People become their uncomfortable bodies.
Quickly clothes and hair get greasy.
Clean diapers become Black Market
currency. Bartenders become celebs.

Some people stand at windows,
achieve Zen peace by staring at airplanes
now ridiculous--aluminum sculptures
on tiny wheels, their cruising altitude
a myth beyond the lid of sky
that's been dropped on the airport.


--hans ostrom

Wednesday, November 29, 2023

From the African 6:8 rhythm to the American shuffle

Hans

Hans, pronounced hands
in my case: my name. A
version of John, Juan, Evan,
Giovanni....Such school

nicknames as Fingers,
Hansburger & Hanzy
have caromed off it.

When I was 6, I asked
my mother if I could change
my name to "just plain Bill."
"No," she said. Parenting
by edict was in style then.
For years the tale of the request
made the rounds in the extended
family. (You're welcome!)

A Jewish professor
in graduate school, after I'd
known him a while, asked
me if my first name was German.
"No, Swedish," I reported.
He looked relieved. I felt
relieved he look relieved.
Neither of us named
what we felt. Now I wear

my Hans like an old
friendly flannel shirt.
Names! Like invisible
back-packs. Like signs
above the shops of us.
We answer to our name,
and for it.


hans ostrom 2023

Saturday, November 25, 2023

Eisenhower's "Military-Industrial Complex" Speech Origins and Significance

Broken Airport

The terminal takes its name literally,
is a disintegrating destination.
Flights cancelled, transport stuck.
Even a nun mouths the word, "Fuck."

Inside haggard people and swollen luggage
congeal like snow outside. The enraged become
resigned; the patient, stupefied. Jabbed
and punched by questions, employees
in company colors look like boxers
in late rounds. Everyone begins to resemble

everyone else. Distinctive personalities
melt into smeared canvas of weariness,
smothered rage, drunkenness, and hysteria.

People become their uncomfortable bodies.
Quickly clothes and hair get greasy.
Clean diapers become Black Market
currency. Bartenders become celebs.

Some people stand at windows,
achieve Zen peace by staring at airplanes
now ridiculous--aluminum sculptures
on tiny wheels, their cruising altitude
a myth beyond the lid of sky
that's been dropped on the airport.

hans ostrom