Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
A Few Moments in the Comparisonator
Her eyes were as blue as not
sky or sea but, but, uh--
cornflowers.
The moon looked like not
cheese, a face, a balloon, but
a flashlight shined
on
varicose veins.
My love for you is stronger
than my breath
after I've eaten
raw onions and Limburger
cheese. What? You don't
eat raw onions or
Limburger cheese?
A sadness enveloped me.
Like an envelope. Right?
When you take off your
clothes, baby, I don't
think about comparisons.
Hans Ostrom, 2012
sky or sea but, but, uh--
cornflowers.
The moon looked like not
cheese, a face, a balloon, but
a flashlight shined
on
varicose veins.
My love for you is stronger
than my breath
after I've eaten
raw onions and Limburger
cheese. What? You don't
eat raw onions or
Limburger cheese?
A sadness enveloped me.
Like an envelope. Right?
When you take off your
clothes, baby, I don't
think about comparisons.
Hans Ostrom, 2012
Monday, September 10, 2012
Consciousness, This Space
This customary space, consciousness (as you hear
the hiss of evening traffic): a pliable, warped
sphere with membrane boundaries. Sometimes
the activity called thinking permeates
the membrane. And there you are,
situated in a non-view.
Not so much detached as unbounded.
You see a gleam for a while without
knowing or naming it; it isn't gleam.
....Chrome....toaster....fender...glass...?
Utterly receptive perception . . .
You settle into out-settledness.
Sounds. Blurs. What is there
enwraps you loosely like
the lightest fabric. There's
the merest hint of, well,
forever (as you hear the
hiss . . .)
Hans Ostrom, 2012
the hiss of evening traffic): a pliable, warped
sphere with membrane boundaries. Sometimes
the activity called thinking permeates
the membrane. And there you are,
situated in a non-view.
Not so much detached as unbounded.
You see a gleam for a while without
knowing or naming it; it isn't gleam.
....Chrome....toaster....fender...glass...?
Utterly receptive perception . . .
You settle into out-settledness.
Sounds. Blurs. What is there
enwraps you loosely like
the lightest fabric. There's
the merest hint of, well,
forever (as you hear the
hiss . . .)
Hans Ostrom, 2012
Sunday, September 9, 2012
What My Job Is
Oh, I know what Management
thinks my job is, don't worry. It's
to help those to whom they
report report that a profit
was made. My family and truth
to tell my friends, and me too,
we think my job is to keep
my job. Beyond that, no one
cares about my work, not
even the ones who send me
bills. Because computers
and some people trying to
keep their jobs send me
the bills, which, if I don't
pay--well, Management there
manages a legal department.
When I'm on the job, I
do my work. Something
I don't tell anyone is this: I
always do something to
hang on to a piece of myself.
What that is varies. Sometimes
people see me doing that kind of
thing, a self-saving thing, and
I'm not giving examples. Anyway,
I see people at the place
looking at me, trying to figure
why I did that or said this.
That kind of thing, that's
not in the job-description.
Hans Ostrom, 2012
thinks my job is, don't worry. It's
to help those to whom they
report report that a profit
was made. My family and truth
to tell my friends, and me too,
we think my job is to keep
my job. Beyond that, no one
cares about my work, not
even the ones who send me
bills. Because computers
and some people trying to
keep their jobs send me
the bills, which, if I don't
pay--well, Management there
manages a legal department.
When I'm on the job, I
do my work. Something
I don't tell anyone is this: I
always do something to
hang on to a piece of myself.
What that is varies. Sometimes
people see me doing that kind of
thing, a self-saving thing, and
I'm not giving examples. Anyway,
I see people at the place
looking at me, trying to figure
why I did that or said this.
That kind of thing, that's
not in the job-description.
Hans Ostrom, 2012
All Work and No Play at a Cafe
(based on found language)
All Work and No Play at a Cafe
Damn, I partied last light. Hell
yes I did. What's the saying?
All work and no play makes
Jack a--uh--a--a whatever.
Is that my latte?
Hans Ostrom, 2012
All Work and No Play at a Cafe
Damn, I partied last light. Hell
yes I did. What's the saying?
All work and no play makes
Jack a--uh--a--a whatever.
Is that my latte?
Hans Ostrom, 2012
Friday, September 7, 2012
Perfect Is Over-rated
(riff on language, Italicized, found on Tumblr)
Perfect is Over-rated
I'm not perfect, and I don't want
to be. Because being perfect
is so over-rated. I mean,
I'd actually rank imperfection
above perfection. For one
thing, perfection doesn't exist.
Read that old fart, Plato. You
can't get to Ideal from here,
so it's as bad as nothing.
Plus everybody I know
who's supposedly perfect
turns out to be, you know,
killers, rapists, head-cases,
cutters, pukers, yellers.
Dangerous or sad.
Less than optimal, I'm thinking.
So, yeah, I wouldn't put
perfect on my fantasy team.
Hans Ostrom, 2012
Perfect is Over-rated
I'm not perfect, and I don't want
to be. Because being perfect
is so over-rated. I mean,
I'd actually rank imperfection
above perfection. For one
thing, perfection doesn't exist.
Read that old fart, Plato. You
can't get to Ideal from here,
so it's as bad as nothing.
Plus everybody I know
who's supposedly perfect
turns out to be, you know,
killers, rapists, head-cases,
cutters, pukers, yellers.
Dangerous or sad.
Less than optimal, I'm thinking.
So, yeah, I wouldn't put
perfect on my fantasy team.
Hans Ostrom, 2012
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
On Deciding Not to Become Wealthy
The evidence suggests getting rich
was not one of my priorities.
I studied literature and took up
writing poetry: any questions?
Also, I've always worked. Rather
late in the game, I noticed most
rich people don't work a lot.
Or at all.
Way back in the ago-era,
I ran my own weed- and grass-
cutting business, age 15.
Since then: different wage-jobs--
labor at a gravel-plant, hod-
carrying, washing pots,
writing sports articles, pounding
nails, digging trenches,
reading standardized tests.
Also a salaried job. Professor.
I see now that this was the path
for me. I think if I were rich, I'd
be very nervous, less generous,
and much more of a fuck-up
than I already have been.
That's my report.
Hans Ostrom, 2012
was not one of my priorities.
I studied literature and took up
writing poetry: any questions?
Also, I've always worked. Rather
late in the game, I noticed most
rich people don't work a lot.
Or at all.
Way back in the ago-era,
I ran my own weed- and grass-
cutting business, age 15.
Since then: different wage-jobs--
labor at a gravel-plant, hod-
carrying, washing pots,
writing sports articles, pounding
nails, digging trenches,
reading standardized tests.
Also a salaried job. Professor.
I see now that this was the path
for me. I think if I were rich, I'd
be very nervous, less generous,
and much more of a fuck-up
than I already have been.
That's my report.
Hans Ostrom, 2012
Poem: A List of Parts
In this package
you will find the
following parts
for the poem
you'll assemble.
Please match the
parts to this list
before you begin
assembly.
1. Sounds
2. Letters [26]
3. Words [75--you may
order more]
4. Marks (punctuation)
5. Pictures in the mind
[not included but implied]
6. Space
7. Sample title
8. Sample beginning [2]
9. Sample ending [2]
10. Stanza-templates [6--you
may order more]
Hans Ostrom, 2012
you will find the
following parts
for the poem
you'll assemble.
Please match the
parts to this list
before you begin
assembly.
1. Sounds
2. Letters [26]
3. Words [75--you may
order more]
4. Marks (punctuation)
5. Pictures in the mind
[not included but implied]
6. Space
7. Sample title
8. Sample beginning [2]
9. Sample ending [2]
10. Stanza-templates [6--you
may order more]
Hans Ostrom, 2012
The Last Automobile
Hear that sound?
That's the motor
of the last car
to go over the cliff.
Now the authorities
will roll up highways
and store them in a
desert like old
spools of thread.
Wild horses will
look down on them
from synthetic, pastured
plateaus above.
Hans Ostrom, 2012
That's the motor
of the last car
to go over the cliff.
Now the authorities
will roll up highways
and store them in a
desert like old
spools of thread.
Wild horses will
look down on them
from synthetic, pastured
plateaus above.
Hans Ostrom, 2012
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Monday, September 3, 2012
Political Arguments
Nobody knows what they're talking about.
Or, they know what they're talking
about only because they made it up.
Judging from the noise and heat,
you might think these people
really believe they affect outcomes.
You might even think
the politicians to whom they're
loyal are loyal to them!
These people arguing
are like watchdogs barking
and growling, guarding
a piece of turf no one sees.
Political arguments
are imaginative enterprises.
--Hans Ostrom, 2012
Or, they know what they're talking
about only because they made it up.
Judging from the noise and heat,
you might think these people
really believe they affect outcomes.
You might even think
the politicians to whom they're
loyal are loyal to them!
These people arguing
are like watchdogs barking
and growling, guarding
a piece of turf no one sees.
Political arguments
are imaginative enterprises.
--Hans Ostrom, 2012
Bed Linens
Sand from a beach-woman's feet,
crumbs from something I ate,
books, pens, notebooks, socks--
none of such stuff in bed
ever bothered me. Still:
fresh sheets, especially
when a person's gripped
by flu--celestial comfort.
There's something mournful
and small--not rising to the level
of tragedy--about a stripped bed.
It's as if Sleep up and quit
that room and moved on
to another town.
--Hans Ostrom, 2012
crumbs from something I ate,
books, pens, notebooks, socks--
none of such stuff in bed
ever bothered me. Still:
fresh sheets, especially
when a person's gripped
by flu--celestial comfort.
There's something mournful
and small--not rising to the level
of tragedy--about a stripped bed.
It's as if Sleep up and quit
that room and moved on
to another town.
--Hans Ostrom, 2012
Sunday, September 2, 2012
Friday, August 31, 2012
Should Be Forbidden
It is customary
but not mandatory
for the old to say
of the young, "We
know more than they."
It is customary
but not mandatory
for the young to say
of the old, "Who
cares what they know?"
It should be forbidden
of the old to say or
to think of the young,
"Who cares what
they know?"
Hans Ostrom copyright 2012
but not mandatory
for the old to say
of the young, "We
know more than they."
It is customary
but not mandatory
for the young to say
of the old, "Who
cares what they know?"
It should be forbidden
of the old to say or
to think of the young,
"Who cares what
they know?"
Hans Ostrom copyright 2012
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Found Poem: The Shit Parents Say
Parents don't notice
that the shit
they say
actually hurts.
alicelock, Tumblr.
that the shit
they say
actually hurts.
alicelock, Tumblr.
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
I Placed a Blue Man in Tennessee
The wind scars
the surface of the lake.
He's standing there
not quite awake.
The fool stands
in mud--yes that is he,
the saddest man
in Tennessee.
--Hans Ostrom, copyright 2012
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Tavern Haiku
"I put the sip in
dissipation," said the old
guy, tasting the rye.
Hans Ostrom, copyright 2012
Monday, August 27, 2012
A Presidential Election and Rhythm n Blues
Rhythm & Blues, that American
genre, holds a tale of USA.
Inside R&B a White
presidential candidate
and a Black presidential
candidate stare
at each other. Listening
to the music, you may
have to move down
many corridors, streets,
and roads before you see
them standing, staring there.
But if you have known R&B
in your life, you know
you'll see them. It is night.
Although they are only
staring, the scene feels
dangerous. The USA
feels dangerous. If you
have known R&B in your
life, you know you can
hear danger even in a
song that is all about
sweet love. Round and round
you go, USA, round & round.
--Hans Ostrom, 2012
genre, holds a tale of USA.
Inside R&B a White
presidential candidate
and a Black presidential
candidate stare
at each other. Listening
to the music, you may
have to move down
many corridors, streets,
and roads before you see
them standing, staring there.
But if you have known R&B
in your life, you know
you'll see them. It is night.
Although they are only
staring, the scene feels
dangerous. The USA
feels dangerous. If you
have known R&B in your
life, you know you can
hear danger even in a
song that is all about
sweet love. Round and round
you go, USA, round & round.
--Hans Ostrom, 2012
And So It Begins--the Semester, That Is
I'm re-posting a short poem to mark the beginning of the semester or quarter at many colleges.
"Dialogue on a College Campus"
"Dialogue on a College Campus"
Saturday, August 25, 2012
Found Poem: Saloon Note
Hey Philip--about the Felix
THANG--
NO DRINKS until he pays
Miranda 17 dollars--
you dig?
--Hans Ostrom, 2012
THANG--
NO DRINKS until he pays
Miranda 17 dollars--
you dig?
--Hans Ostrom, 2012
Monday, August 20, 2012
Found Poem: Yeah, He Must Have Died
Yeah, he must
have died because
he's trending
on
Twitter.
--Hans Ostrom, 2012
Sunday, August 19, 2012
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Bats Right, Throws Left
I came down from the mountains
a devout S.F. Giants fan, thanks
to radio and the Sacramento Bee.
I came down from the mountains
never having played pee-wee,
Little League, Legion, or Babe Ruth ball.
I was a baseball immigrant.
I batted left because my brother
Sven, a leftie, taught me to hit. I'd
become what I'd learn was a
dead-pull-hitter. And
I had a glove from the Montgomery
Ward catalog. So in high school,
I could hit the cut-off man, catch
a fly, charge a base-hit, and bunt.
At bat I was afraid of the ball:
No, not quite right. Conceptually,
I hadn't found evidence that one
shouldn't be afraid of the ball,
especially after team-mate Eddie,
nicest guy but wild, drilled me twice
in the back. Still, I went three-
for-three one bright Spring day,
with a base-on-balls, runs scored.
But out in right field, a pasture
made for me, I often drifted
mentally, considered slipping
away ("Slip away, slip away ...").
Someone would hit a liner out
there. Manager, teammates,
and the sprinkling of fans would
say, Hey, where's the right-fielder?
And I'd be lying down with a brown
woman in a blonde meadow, or
taking a midnight train to Rome,
or writing this poem.
--Hans Ostrom 2012
a devout S.F. Giants fan, thanks
to radio and the Sacramento Bee.
I came down from the mountains
never having played pee-wee,
Little League, Legion, or Babe Ruth ball.
I was a baseball immigrant.
I batted left because my brother
Sven, a leftie, taught me to hit. I'd
become what I'd learn was a
dead-pull-hitter. And
I had a glove from the Montgomery
Ward catalog. So in high school,
I could hit the cut-off man, catch
a fly, charge a base-hit, and bunt.
At bat I was afraid of the ball:
No, not quite right. Conceptually,
I hadn't found evidence that one
shouldn't be afraid of the ball,
especially after team-mate Eddie,
nicest guy but wild, drilled me twice
in the back. Still, I went three-
for-three one bright Spring day,
with a base-on-balls, runs scored.
But out in right field, a pasture
made for me, I often drifted
mentally, considered slipping
away ("Slip away, slip away ...").
Someone would hit a liner out
there. Manager, teammates,
and the sprinkling of fans would
say, Hey, where's the right-fielder?
And I'd be lying down with a brown
woman in a blonde meadow, or
taking a midnight train to Rome,
or writing this poem.
--Hans Ostrom 2012
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Spam Found-Poem: "Hot Workplace Free"
Hot workplace free!
Workplace condition: your house
Years old: older
Pay schedule: pays for each hours
We are waiting for your reply.
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
But It Does
I don't know
why the yellow-jacket
stands motionless
on a pale green
wrinkled new leaf
of lettuce in sunlight.
But it does.
I don't know
why the universe
keeps occurring.
But it does.
--Hans Ostrom, 2012
why the yellow-jacket
stands motionless
on a pale green
wrinkled new leaf
of lettuce in sunlight.
But it does.
I don't know
why the universe
keeps occurring.
But it does.
--Hans Ostrom, 2012
Monday, August 6, 2012
Sunday, August 5, 2012
Not Afraid of Zombies
I'm not afraid
of no zombies.
They walk too slow.
I'm not afraid
of no werewolves.
They're dogs, you know.
The monsters
to keep an eye on
are the people
who seem okay.
They'll mess you up
every which damn way.
--Hans Ostrom, 2012
of no zombies.
They walk too slow.
I'm not afraid
of no werewolves.
They're dogs, you know.
The monsters
to keep an eye on
are the people
who seem okay.
They'll mess you up
every which damn way.
--Hans Ostrom, 2012
Saturday, August 4, 2012
Thursday, August 2, 2012
Every Revery
Every revery swells
the sails of one's invisible ship.
Thinking is traveling,
and the brain is wet and salty.
The mind it harbors
is bigger than the grandest
ocean we have ever mapped
and bigger than the biggest sea
we've ever dreamed.
--Hans Ostrom, 2012
the sails of one's invisible ship.
Thinking is traveling,
and the brain is wet and salty.
The mind it harbors
is bigger than the grandest
ocean we have ever mapped
and bigger than the biggest sea
we've ever dreamed.
--Hans Ostrom, 2012
Of Poverty
“What is harder for the nonpoor to see is poverty as
acute distress: The lunch that consists of Doritos or hot dog rolls,
leading to faintness before the end of the shift. The “home” that is
also a car or a van. The illness or injury that must be “worked
through,” with gritted teeth, because there’s no sick pay or health
insurance and the loss of one day’s pay will mean no groceries for the
next. These experiences are not part of a sustainable lifestyle, even a
lifestyle of chronic deprivation and relentless low-level punishment.
They are, by almost any standard of subsistence, emergency situations.
And that is how we should see the poverty of so many millions of
low-wage Americans—as a state of emergency.”
| — | Barbara Ehrenreich, Nickel and Dimed |
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
The Checklist
reasonably healthy today? check
not in poverty? check
enough to eat? check
not in jail? check
got a job? check
have someone to love? check
memory intact? check
not in imminent danger of getting killed or raped or both? check
getting laid? check, check
benefiting from helping someone? check
access to clean water? check
indoor plumbing that works? check
lights and heat? check
roof over your head, and a bed? check
something to read? check
then count your fucking blessings and/or stop whining
--Hans Ostrom, 2012
not in poverty? check
enough to eat? check
not in jail? check
got a job? check
have someone to love? check
memory intact? check
not in imminent danger of getting killed or raped or both? check
getting laid? check, check
benefiting from helping someone? check
access to clean water? check
indoor plumbing that works? check
lights and heat? check
roof over your head, and a bed? check
something to read? check
then count your fucking blessings and/or stop whining
--Hans Ostrom, 2012
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Ill-Equipped by Technology
Technology has ill-equipped us.
When are we ever not behind
its trends? The nature
of capital requires us either
to be behind or to believe
we are behind or both.
The next invented, mass-
produced, and marketed
things wait in tiresome,
predictable ambush.
Place: a box canyon
of forced choices.
Think of specific
gadgets and gizmos
you don't own--
which
you will soon purchase,
by choice.
Consider whether
this new bought thing will
really improve your life.
Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom
When are we ever not behind
its trends? The nature
of capital requires us either
to be behind or to believe
we are behind or both.
The next invented, mass-
produced, and marketed
things wait in tiresome,
predictable ambush.
Place: a box canyon
of forced choices.
Think of specific
gadgets and gizmos
you don't own--
which
you will soon purchase,
by choice.
Consider whether
this new bought thing will
really improve your life.
Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom
Nothing Personal, Just Business
When they say,
It's nothing personal--it's just
business, it's personal,
for the lie itself concerns
personality, the intimacy
of betrayal. When they say
it's just business, they mean
the opposite. They mean business
is all--it governs. Have you
known a time when business
didn't govern? When they say
these things, keep
your distance from them,
from these people who are like
dogs on chains, the chain
being business and personal.
Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom
It's nothing personal--it's just
business, it's personal,
for the lie itself concerns
personality, the intimacy
of betrayal. When they say
it's just business, they mean
the opposite. They mean business
is all--it governs. Have you
known a time when business
didn't govern? When they say
these things, keep
your distance from them,
from these people who are like
dogs on chains, the chain
being business and personal.
Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Sunday, July 15, 2012
Warm-Up Exercise for Poets: Adjective/Noun/ABC
Just a warm-up exercise. You'll infer the "rules" from this example immediately.
Adept Zebra
Burnt Yams
Chrome Xylophone
Dry Wall
Elegant Veranda
Flexible Udders
Good Times
Hot Salsa
International Rutabaga
Jeweled Quilt
Knowing Purveyor
Lone Osprey
Murderous Narcotic
Narcoleptic Man
Obsolete Language
Prescient Knight
Questionable Jester
Restless Intern
Surly Handler
Tainted Garnish
Unique Fragrance
Venerable Epic
Wistful Dog
Xenophobic Cleric
Young Barista
Zealous Attitude.
Adept Zebra
Burnt Yams
Chrome Xylophone
Dry Wall
Elegant Veranda
Flexible Udders
Good Times
Hot Salsa
International Rutabaga
Jeweled Quilt
Knowing Purveyor
Lone Osprey
Murderous Narcotic
Narcoleptic Man
Obsolete Language
Prescient Knight
Questionable Jester
Restless Intern
Surly Handler
Tainted Garnish
Unique Fragrance
Venerable Epic
Wistful Dog
Xenophobic Cleric
Young Barista
Zealous Attitude.
Found Poem: Four Signs Nailed to an Urban Fir Tree
MOVING &
*
CHEAP SMOKES AND BEER
*
NEED A CONTRACTOR?
*
PEST CONTROL
*
--Hans Ostrom
*
CHEAP SMOKES AND BEER
*
NEED A CONTRACTOR?
*
PEST CONTROL
*
--Hans Ostrom
Friday, July 13, 2012
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Carter Monroe on Jack Spicer
Here is a link to a post by Carter Monroe on the 9th Street Laboratories blog. Monroe, as you may know, is a poet, novelist, publisher, and music-expert hailing from North Carolina. I sometimes refer to him as the sage of N.C., in fact.
Spicer was one of the troubled geniuses of the Beat Movement in San Francisco, pushing the limits of poetry and counter-cultural thought as much as he could and influencing a range of writers, including Robert Duncan. In my view, Spicer also anticipated much of what LANGUAGE poetry has attempted to do.
In the post, Monroe notes Spicer's influence on his own work and places his reading of Spicer in a biographical and cultural context in the 1970s. The post includes excerpts from Monroe's "Spicer Series" of poems--great work.
Spicer was one of the troubled geniuses of the Beat Movement in San Francisco, pushing the limits of poetry and counter-cultural thought as much as he could and influencing a range of writers, including Robert Duncan. In my view, Spicer also anticipated much of what LANGUAGE poetry has attempted to do.
In the post, Monroe notes Spicer's influence on his own work and places his reading of Spicer in a biographical and cultural context in the 1970s. The post includes excerpts from Monroe's "Spicer Series" of poems--great work.
Monday, July 9, 2012
Sunday, July 8, 2012
Friday, July 6, 2012
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