Was Here

 in memory of J.L.B., "JImmy"

Sprinkle some of his ashes
in Mobile Bay. Watch
them float away past piers
on their way
to the Gulf of Mexico and forever.

Sprinkle some more
in Perdido Bay. He found
good trouble there
back in the day.

Take what's left. Say
the 23rd Psalm, sing
"Amazing Grace" with
seven unsure voices.
Watch a marlin too close
to shore leap out of water,
its whole blue-green body flashing
in sunlight. Sprinkle

the very last outside a saloon,
the Floribama, big and loud
and squatting on state bounder-
lines. He loved the place
so much he left his name
there years ago,

and added "was here."
Yes, walk out onto the bright
white sand, past the bikinis
and brown bodies, past
the hoisters of beer and rum.

Yes, drop the last
of his body's dust
into royal blue Mobile
waters as the wind pries
up a few white-caps.

Turn away, walk through
the bars and gift shops,
past the thumping country
cover band, out to the cars.
Drive away and one day, one
night, think "we were there once."

hans ostrom 2025

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RABBIT HOLE, by Crystal Ignatowski

I just finished reading Crystal Ignatowski's fine books of poems, Rabbit Hole, from Cathexis Northwest Press. It is a superb book. The poems contain several rabbit holes (a la Alice in Wonderland)--tragic or empty relationships, difficult questions of identity, and unsatisfying sexual adventures, for instance. 

The poems have what one might call "edginess," but is hard-earned, not faked, but also not indulged. 

The poems come to us in clear, crisp free verse, but they come with maturity, depth, and sophisticated thought--as well as terrific imagery. 

I've already started re-reading the poems--that may be one of the truest signs of good poetry.

Crytal took poetry writing from me in college many, many years ago, and she has just kept on writing. She has discipline and patience. 

I hope you and/or your library (at your suggestion) will get a copy of Rabbit Hole. You'll enjoy the book. Congratulations, Crystal.

Khatia Buniatishvili - Pictures at an Exhibition - The Great Gate of Kiev

The Sonnet is a Puzzle in a Box

The sonnet is a puzzle in a box

That sits there on the shelf of poetry.
Of course the form has taken many knocks,
In part because of its ubiquity.

Indeed, as here, one writes about the form
When writing in it: ah, meta-verse,
It seems, became a while back the norm.
Some think it makes the sonnet even worse.

The sonnet lends itself to poise and pace,
And yet one feels quite rushed to make a point:
Iambic sprint, three quatrains in a race.
The last two lines, however, own the joint.

Well, here we are. This is the thirteenth line.
This sonnet says its feeling fairly fine.

hans ostrom 2025

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Caramel and Other Surprises

Each day life presents

several surprises. Canned

peas sit on a different shelf

at the grocery store. About

80 million peeple us their votes

to make a rapist, fraud, and 

white supremacist a president--

and they expect good things

to come of it.  

A longtime companion says

she never liked caramel. Ever.

You accuse yourself of stupidity,

therefore. A friend you haven't

seen in years dies, surprise,

and you look away from the 

informing email and out a window

at gray and sigh--all you can manage.

hans ostrom 2025