Reading/video of a poem by Charles Bukowski, one of his classical music ones:
Monday, September 14, 2020
Saturday, September 12, 2020
"The Sloth," by Theodore Roethke
Poem by the legendary University of Washington poetry teacher--and the highly successful poet--Theodore Roethke (1908-1963). It's about the animal, not the sin or lifestyle choice. Reading/video:
Friday, September 11, 2020
Coffee
Of course the coffee nodule
is neither cherry nor berry,
just as you are neither you nor
you before "you" hold the ceramic
cup in that sacred way and weigh
it gratefully, and wait for your hands
to say when the temperature
of the darkness
will love your tongue and mouth
best. You sip and smell
simultaneously. You are soothed.
You are less dim. The sun
rises just above the blue rim
of your stupor. Shapes of
thought become visible,
work becomes viable,
wants become focused.
O thank you Arabia,
thank you Ethiopia,
thank you Sudan and South
America, Indonesia . . .
Such chants continue
silently in your mind,
which small sips of shade
have clarified. Your heart
stumbles into a pace
that brings awareness
to your brain in soft
brown sacks. You begin to flirt
with thought, consider
sociability, tolerate noise,
nearly nod Yes to life.
You want to tell coffee again
that you love it, but you’re not
quite ready to speak,
and anyway coffee knows.
coffee knows, knows what you need.
hans ostrom 2020
Thursday, September 10, 2020
Please Feel Sorry for Yourself
Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Such
a tedious rebuke. Often followed
by words about gratitude or
comparative well being.
I encourage you to feel sorry
for yourself. Feel sorry for other
people, too, but save some for yourself.
Properly calibrated, self-sympathy
dulls disappointment's edge. It can
soothe depression when you're lying
there staring into your mind like it was
a dark, fishless aquarium.
The pleasure of self-pity
is under-rated. Indeed I think
some people try to shame you
out of it because they think
you might be enjoying it.
I feel sorry for them.
hans ostrom
Thanks for Coming
Thanks for coming.
I was delighted to play
a role in your arrival,
at which point you
uttered words with no
definition but much
meaning. I'm reminded
how pleasant it is to witness
someone's pleasure,
to be brought into it, to
hold it in your hands,
as it were, like a shivering
bird about to be released.
Thanks for coming.
hans ostrom 2020
Grateful for Grasshoppers
Just realized I'd yet to compliment
Life on providing grasshoppers
in the field buttressed by
Sierra Nevada peaks. They
launched themselves, those
bugs, with catapult back legs,
and tried to stay aloft with weighty
art deco wings. The theater
of tall grass and weeds featured
jazz parabolas, careening leaps,
and caroms off my legs and chest
and cheeks. A festival, a rite!
Bug ballet, nothing like it.
Butterflies applauded. Thank you.
hans ostrom 2020
Monday, September 7, 2020
Interview with Lolly Vegas of Redbone
First the universe came into being, then the Earth cooled, and finally the 1970s happened. The best-selling pop/rock song in the U.S. in 1974, I am told, was "Come and Get Your Love," by a Native American group called Redbone, headed up by Lolly and Pat Vegas, who were from a town near Fresno, California. The version of the song from "Midnight Special" on Youtube is pretty good, I think. I always liked the funkiness of the song.
In 2006 Lolly Vegas was interviewed. Good to hear his history of his music:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=klShZ7iYUOg
Rest in Peace, Lolly Vegas.
"The Garden," by Jacques Prévert
Video/reading of a short poem by Prévert (1900-1977), translated by Alastair Campbell--grateful acknowledgement to him:
Link:
Saturday, September 5, 2020
"Sky Song," by Robert Desnos
Video/reading of a lovely, whimsical love poem by Robert Desnos, translated from the French:
link:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qPqht2HE7jY
Friday, September 4, 2020
My Journey of Self-Discovery: Postponed
Once more I've had
to postpone my journey
of self-discovery. Just
too many other things
to do. Cooking, cleaning,
sleeping, reading. In
theory, sex. Plus there's
the old, yet to be solved
problem: what would
I do at the end of my
journey of self-discovery?
Write a report? Say
"Nice to meet you"?
I think it would be very
awkward to converse
with my self-discovered self.
hans ostrom 2020
The Novel of Your Life
The novel of life
goes along and then
the letters, words,
sentences, and paragraphs
start slipping off the page
until finally, all blank
pages. It's the novel
only you get to read
all the way through,
through to the end.
It's your favorite
novel because no one
wrote it, not even you.
hans ostrom 2020
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)