Thursday, January 30, 2025

Sine Qua Non

It's good to watch faces
show the brains' search
for phrasing. Blank stare,
bunched brow, light in eyes--

words stored in neural bins,
plucked out, strung like beads,
then shipped in blood-drawn
carts along nervous roads

to mouth and tongue and
lips: "Sine qua non--that's it."
And the listenerr repeats:
"Sine qua non--right."

hans ostrom 2025

Monday, January 27, 2025

Winter Samba

 

(song lyric)


I find I need to feel my feet

On Ipanema sand

And see the supple bodies  -

So lithe and tawny tan.

 

I conjure up Brazilian heat -

 And sense the sultry sun.

I crave the fiery chill  of

Cold rum on my tongue.

 

Play a winter samba

To melt my soul’s cold ice.

A soft & sultry samba -

The sound of paradise.

 

Play a winter samba

That sways just like a palm

Beside a breezy beach -

The ocean bright and calm.

 

Winter wears me down  -

The city’s gray and cold.

The forecast every day’s

The old same-old same-old.

 

Who are all these strangers

Who sneeze and cough on me?

I spend my evening shivering,

In front of the TV.

Chorus

 

Buffalo and Cleveland,

Detroit, Ontario.

Winter wants to strangle them.

Winter won’t let go.

 

Seattle and Chicago,

Berlin and Paris, too.

The rain and snow and darkness

Dye all our spirits blue.

 

How much are flights to Rio?

Okay -  I’ll check online.

Do I have Brazilian cousins

Who own a silver mine?

Chorus

 

hans ostrom 2025

 

 

"Winter Samba," by Roger Illsley

Sunday, January 26, 2025

How I Knew My Sister Was Gay | Hilarious & Heartfelt Story | Cliff Cash ...

Civilization

I smiled
at a stranger
today and she smiled back.
Civilized, that
moment.

hans ostrom 2025

This Side of the River

 

Over many seasons

I waited and waited

for the river's waters

to recede so that I

might safely cross,

perhaps by using

boulders as stepping

stones. Perhaps

by sloshing throw

a manageable 

current. The water

never lowered.


If I tried to wade, I'd

drown. If I rowed

a boat, the waterfall's

catract would

devour me. No bridges

in sight. Thus


I announced to

myself that this side

of ther river 

is the place I want

to be--my destination,

my desire, my smoke

and my fire. I love 

it over here!


hans ostrom 2025

Caravan played by Monk in Berlin, 1969

Friday, January 24, 2025

Counter-Invictus

 a poem in conversation with William Ernest Henley's "Invictus"

Out of the day that covers me,
Gray as the gray of dull wool,
I think what gods may hang around
To remind me I'm a fool.

When things have gone quite wrong,
I've acted well or badly or okay,
Up to the challenge sometimes, sometimes
Not: One can't predict which way.

Beyond this sphere of our mortality,
Lies who knows what for sure?
Hell, yes, I am afraid to die,
To go forever from Is to Were.

To say you are the Captain of
Your fate is bluster or delusion
For accidents happen all the time.
And Captains sail into confusion.

If there is such a thing as Fate,
Then It is the big fleet's Admiral,
And we, alas, at best passengers.
So how much can we control?

hans ostrom 2022/2025

New Retail

You go to a new shop
to buy food, clothing,
or a book. A fresh
set of faces blossoms
there. Some faces glow.
Some flow around you slowly
like flowers on a sluggish
creek's surface.

hans ostrom 2025

Walking in Snow

You're walking in snow,
knowing you know
that you're heaving breath,
  that your feet sink with each step,
  that your face gets raw from cold.

Watch your lungs make clouds.
Listen to wind stir trees
and see it tease
  boughs into dumping snow.
    A deep blue, black-headed
      Steller's jay lands on a liberated
        branch. And cack-cack-cackles.

This small unclothed, unshod
creature finds hilarity in snow
  You do not.
    Do not.
      Just don't.

hans ostrom 2025

It’s racism, bigotry and inevitable demographic change

Thursday, January 23, 2025

Today, In Its Way

Today is today. I must not forget.
It teaches me to live in its niche.
On this street, by that purple tree.
With those birds,--black, blue,
speckled, gray. orange.

It leads me to eat this daily bread,
not bread made of promises or dread,
of regrets, threats, or plans, but of
Now's flour, water, yeast, and salt.

Today softly slaps my face
and tells me what people
I must help, what people
help me.  Don't go messin'
around with other days,
you dumb ass,  says today.
In its way.

hans ostrom 2024

Cloud Honey

Somebody planted flowers
in the clouds. They bloomed
like fine sunrises. In squadrons
bees took off from every land
to fly up there. Later in the season,

bee hives rose like temples.
Honey drizzled down on us.
Sweet rain. Was it sticky,
golden brown, and sweet?
Was it problematic? Oh,
yes, oh yes it was indeed.

hans ostrom 2025