Saturday, December 28, 2024

Sonnet for Olivia Hussey

 rest in peace, Olivia Hussey--1951-2024

A yellow bus hauled us to Sacramento—
A field-trip to Franco Zifferelli’s film.
We were as young as Juliet and Romeo,
Three years too young for Johnson’s war in `Nam,

An ideal audience for R and J--
Infatuated with ourselves, that is to say;
Hormonally volcanic; raised on Coke™,
TV, and Rock. The news had not yet broke

That we were mortal and that Clearasil™
Could not salve every wound. Sex and death,
First crushes, crushing families—these filled
The screen. But soft! She took my breath

Away—Juliet. To this late day, you see,
I have a crush on Olivia Hussey.

hans ostrom 2024

Tuesday, December 24, 2024

Leaving the Holiday Party Early

Amidst the burnished
buzzing of chat, you
say thanks to the host.

Then thread yourself
through clumps
of standing talkers.

You see yourself
out, as they say,
and close the door.

You deep-breathe
to sample cold air
and walk until

you can't hear
the party at all
anymore. Maybe

you'll go on
forever, past all
gatherings,

past being you,
past being, into infinity's
big get-together.

hans ostrom 2024

An Image of Spring Wheat

Emerald-green spring wheat
in Tuscany unrolls its carpet
up to a hilltop and blue sky.

Up there to the right
gather cypress trees in a
clump like conferring monks.

Across the top of the hill,
two electrical lines sag
between two cruciform polls.

A photographer has snapped
this image with a legendary
Hasselblad. The scene ordered

him to do so. Then, a guest
late to dinner, he rushed off
and forgot the lens-cap. In

the morning he returns. The
hill doesn't look the same. Of
course not. He smiles. He

scans the green grass,
searching for the cap. He
finds it, glances back up

at the cypresses, which
gossip about him. A bird
lands on one of the wires.

hans ostrom 2024

What A Cat

This leopard's growl
stays in the throat, gargling,
gurgling like a cauldron.

This dabbed fur
paints an impression of
dappling sunlight on brush.

Sides of the lithe cat
expand, contract, as air
jumps into lungs, rides out

again over a rough pink
tongue, white theeth,
black lips. This staring leopard's

mouth and nose taste-smell
air, sorting known traces,
measuring strange mixtures.

This leopard, what a cat,
ah, what a creature,
what a miracle of Here.

hans ostrom 2024

Monday, December 9, 2024

Word Woman

She stayed open to words
any day of time or night. Sang
words if they wanted thrumming,
mumbled humbled ones, bathed
others in black ink. Words

were people in her mind. Without
them she couldn’t imagine the
something she might be.
Come in, come in, she said when
they arrived. She fixed a place

for each, knew most of their
morphological needs. They
knew they might denote, connote,
obscure, shade, or just freely lie
around, lying, telling truth,

cursing coarsely, moaning
hoarsely, leaping into phones
to ride electrons in the clouds.
Toward words she truly
tried to act the perfect hostess.

hans ostrom 20

Freight Ships

 Tacoma, Washington, USA


Anchored, freighters look like farm towns
burning necessary lights on dark fields.

Their crews, like miners, are unapparent.

We know these ships to be steel buckets,
as basic as water, profit, gravity, and greed.

We do not know why we stare at them

like art or why they  stare back
with the wise vacancy of cats.

hans ostrom 2024