Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Monday, December 20, 2010
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Yoga Poem #2
Yoga Poem #2
Downward dog indeed.
Make the arse the apex,
dig in your toes, and put
that nose near the ground.
Hey, sniff your way to namaste.
Don't look at your neighbor's
ass. You're not traveling
in a pack. In down-dog,
your body and the Earth
make a triangle pointing
toward the sky
and Orion's dog
eternally faithful.
Butt in the air,
you are undignified
and proud both
at once. Your shoulders
ache. They're holding
up your lower floors,
something they're
not used to.
You wish to lie
down like a tired
hound.
Copyright 2010 Hans Ostrom
Downward dog indeed.
Make the arse the apex,
dig in your toes, and put
that nose near the ground.
Hey, sniff your way to namaste.
Don't look at your neighbor's
ass. You're not traveling
in a pack. In down-dog,
your body and the Earth
make a triangle pointing
toward the sky
and Orion's dog
eternally faithful.
Butt in the air,
you are undignified
and proud both
at once. Your shoulders
ache. They're holding
up your lower floors,
something they're
not used to.
You wish to lie
down like a tired
hound.
Copyright 2010 Hans Ostrom
Yoga Poem #1
Yoga Poem #1
Before yoga, you
are overwrought.
During yoga you
are wrought--
like iron as it's
pounded on by
a blacksmith . . .
without a hammer.
After yoga, you
are overwrought:
there's a lovely
formlessness to your
to your thinking
as thoughts pass
through, pass by.
Even if it's a
gray day, even if
it's night, you notice
light.
Copyright 2010 Hans Ostrom
Before yoga, you
are overwrought.
During yoga you
are wrought--
like iron as it's
pounded on by
a blacksmith . . .
without a hammer.
After yoga, you
are overwrought:
there's a lovely
formlessness to your
to your thinking
as thoughts pass
through, pass by.
Even if it's a
gray day, even if
it's night, you notice
light.
Copyright 2010 Hans Ostrom
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Friday, December 17, 2010
Samuel Johnson and Gertrude Stein in Heaven
Samuel Johnson and Gertrude Stein in Heaven
Lapidarian stylists, hard prose. Ugly people--at least
according to those who make the rules, which Sam
and Gert upheld devoutly or smashed like Vikings,
depending on the whims of their intelligence. Smarter
than the rest, they were, and than the best, around
whom they lived. They were both puritanical
Epicureans. They had a powerful desire to be
chaste, which showed up in prayers and prose
but not so much in life, which is an exuberant affair.
Sam had Hetty and Boswell and a cobbled
entourage. Gert had Alice and Paris and lots
of names to drop. Each was a bit of a hick,
a tourist, a clod--the chief effect of which
was to compress their anxieties and sharpen
mental blades Gert was from Oakland, which
she tried to erase by saying that it didn't have
a there. Sam was from Lichfield and had
bad shoes, nervous ticks, and a marred face.
Gert had the nose of a battleship. Lord Almighty,
no wonder they're glad to be paired in Heaven,
where they read each other's writings and get
all the uncanny connections.
Each of them devoured the Age. Each was
interested in writing lives in the process of
composing their own. Both could be cruel,
but not for long. Neither grasped Empire or
other larger structures. They operated in
small spaces, like boxers. They never got
over their crushes on London and Paris.
Hard prose easily understood. What's not
to understand? they ask each other in
Heaven, dining and drinking extravagantly.
Prose is there to preserve surges of intellect.
They get to missing Alice and Boswell, so
here they go, searching, walking together--
oh my, what a sight. Peering around a
corner, very short Picasso sketches them
and yearns to cry out that he is a genius, too.
But God's put Pablo on probation.
Copyright 2010 Hans Ostrom
Lapidarian stylists, hard prose. Ugly people--at least
according to those who make the rules, which Sam
and Gert upheld devoutly or smashed like Vikings,
depending on the whims of their intelligence. Smarter
than the rest, they were, and than the best, around
whom they lived. They were both puritanical
Epicureans. They had a powerful desire to be
chaste, which showed up in prayers and prose
but not so much in life, which is an exuberant affair.
Sam had Hetty and Boswell and a cobbled
entourage. Gert had Alice and Paris and lots
of names to drop. Each was a bit of a hick,
a tourist, a clod--the chief effect of which
was to compress their anxieties and sharpen
mental blades Gert was from Oakland, which
she tried to erase by saying that it didn't have
a there. Sam was from Lichfield and had
bad shoes, nervous ticks, and a marred face.
Gert had the nose of a battleship. Lord Almighty,
no wonder they're glad to be paired in Heaven,
where they read each other's writings and get
all the uncanny connections.
Each of them devoured the Age. Each was
interested in writing lives in the process of
composing their own. Both could be cruel,
but not for long. Neither grasped Empire or
other larger structures. They operated in
small spaces, like boxers. They never got
over their crushes on London and Paris.
Hard prose easily understood. What's not
to understand? they ask each other in
Heaven, dining and drinking extravagantly.
Prose is there to preserve surges of intellect.
They get to missing Alice and Boswell, so
here they go, searching, walking together--
oh my, what a sight. Peering around a
corner, very short Picasso sketches them
and yearns to cry out that he is a genius, too.
But God's put Pablo on probation.
Copyright 2010 Hans Ostrom
The Smoking Gun
The Smoking Gun
The .45 learned to smoke from an old .22.
Now it puffs on hand-rolled cigarettes
regularly--so great to get out of the holster
and relax for a few minutes. Sometimes
it's joined by a 12-gauge shotgun, which
prefers plump cigars. Surprisingly,
the snub-nose .38 smokes a pipe,
Meerschaum, puffs meditatively,
dreaming of hard-boiled, pulp-soft
crime novels, blowsy dames, and
paper bullets aimed at imaginary targets.
Copyright 2010 Hans Ostrom
The .45 learned to smoke from an old .22.
Now it puffs on hand-rolled cigarettes
regularly--so great to get out of the holster
and relax for a few minutes. Sometimes
it's joined by a 12-gauge shotgun, which
prefers plump cigars. Surprisingly,
the snub-nose .38 smokes a pipe,
Meerschaum, puffs meditatively,
dreaming of hard-boiled, pulp-soft
crime novels, blowsy dames, and
paper bullets aimed at imaginary targets.
Copyright 2010 Hans Ostrom
A Poet Considers Probability
Probability: A Poet's View
Hey, if something happens, didn't it
have a 100% chance of happening--
apparently? I mean, math's fun, but
most variables don't get
noticed until after occurrence: The
coin lay on the table heads-up.
Something someone said affected
the force of the flip. Witnesses
would later agree an impulse of
destiny passed through the place,
palpable, like a whiff of cordite.
Having factored in everything,
if we could have done so early,
we'd dispense with Pascal, Fermat,
and numbers, plus their accessories,
such as parentheses and arrowheads.
Our equation would read, "Of course--
oh, absolutely--it will happen."
Copyright 2010 Hans Ostrom
Hey, if something happens, didn't it
have a 100% chance of happening--
apparently? I mean, math's fun, but
most variables don't get
noticed until after occurrence: The
coin lay on the table heads-up.
Something someone said affected
the force of the flip. Witnesses
would later agree an impulse of
destiny passed through the place,
palpable, like a whiff of cordite.
Having factored in everything,
if we could have done so early,
we'd dispense with Pascal, Fermat,
and numbers, plus their accessories,
such as parentheses and arrowheads.
Our equation would read, "Of course--
oh, absolutely--it will happen."
Copyright 2010 Hans Ostrom
Lost in Coupon World, Dude
Lost in Coupon World
I'm at market late at night.
Florescent tubes glow ghostly white.
In the cage-like cart--one tomato
And a box of pre-fab pie-dough.
It's lonely here along the aisles.
The products just go on for miles.
It's my duty to buy more things--
Maybe Tobasco and onion rings.
It's a midnight run to Coupon World.
This is tonight's version of my fate.
I'm cruising past antacids now,
On my way to fishing bait.
Copyright Hans Ostrom 2010
I'm at market late at night.
Florescent tubes glow ghostly white.
In the cage-like cart--one tomato
And a box of pre-fab pie-dough.
It's lonely here along the aisles.
The products just go on for miles.
It's my duty to buy more things--
Maybe Tobasco and onion rings.
It's a midnight run to Coupon World.
This is tonight's version of my fate.
I'm cruising past antacids now,
On my way to fishing bait.
Copyright Hans Ostrom 2010
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Microcosm of a Society in Decline
This morning's (12/16/10) Tacoma News Tribune tells of how Washington state's governor and legislature will respond to the economic crisis that demands budget-cuts. Proposals include shutting down the state's history museum, housed in the refurbished Union Station in Tacoma on what has become a museum row. They also include cuts to gifted-education and medical and long-term care for impoverished persons and the elderly. The governor allows as how she especially doesn't like the latter cuts to social services, but she suggests that the community must step in to help.
Well, the state is "the community," and it's decline, as is the U.S. Both live in denial about the widening chasm between rich and poor, the consolidation of corporate power that overwhelms politics and small businesses, and the crazy ways we put money into treasuries: essentially by not taxing sufficiently those most capable of paying taxes. The U.S. Congress just refused to let tax-cut for the very wealthy expire, thus adding to a deficit already surreally expanded by two wars and a military budget that exceeds all other nations' military budgets combined. Our military secures a nation rotting from the inside. Widespread poverty and low wages are low-grade, chronic terrorism.
Washington state has no income tax, so it has to fill its coffers with a sales tax, the impact of which is greater on the poor than on the rich, for obvious reasons. And then there's the lottery.
Meanwhile, The News Tribune, other newspapers, and other media won't report on poverty, bad working conditions, and the impact of low wages. The Tribune once ran a six-part report on a man who operated a driving-school that was a scam. But it won't report on the economically distressed parts of Tacoma or of the rest of the state. Nor it will it report sufficiently on the conditions at the federal detention center in Tacoma, where non-citizens languish in bad conditions; this, too, is an economic issue because a lot the folks in there were supporting families and paying taxes. The Tribune will report extensively on crime but not on how poverty has an impact on crime. To be fair, the TNT is no different from other papers, especially those owned by large chains. Quarterly profits drive editorial decisions. One result is that the TNT ran, on its front page, a story that had been in the Seattle newspaper the day before. On its front page. It wasn't news anymore, but someone must have thought it would sell papers. Why not send a reporter out to write about some aspect of poverty?
And where would I propose to cut (since I'm so smart!). I'd probably start with the salaries of the governor, the legislators, and the upper-level judges. I'd cut the travel budgets for them, too. I'd put an additional sales tax (since an income tax will never happen) on expensive boats and cars--not boats, mind you, that working people are likely to buy for much needed recreation. I'd increase the taxes on hard liquor but not on beer and wine. I know I could find other cuts or additions if I had a look at the budget, but this is a start.
Also in the news is that Tacoma will close two of its library branches. You guessed it: they are both in lower-income areas of the city. What a good idea. The News Tribune should "adopt" at least one of these branches and keep it open. Think of it as an investment--in literacy, in future readers. Oh, and one of the branches is the Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., branch--should we need further agonizing symbolism.
The broader picture is that state can't take care of those who most need care, and it can't even keep its main source of historical memory alive. It can't keep gifted programs open, thus abandoning one great long-term investment. At the national level, the president meets with CEOs but not with those who represent working stiffs and the poor. Congress blows another hole in the budget but won't confront war-spending and military spending, both gaping economic wounds. Meanwhile, the U.S. is the only major industrial nation not to have a comprehensive health-care system for all. In that area, we're inept. And even in Switzerland, where capitalism basks, insurance companies aren't allowed to make a profit on health-care. (That's the case in most countries.). Why? Because it's like shooting fish in a barrel after the water's gone. Everybody gets sick. Why exploit this universal condition for profit--especially when not everyone is insured? Insane.
But that's where we are.
Well, the state is "the community," and it's decline, as is the U.S. Both live in denial about the widening chasm between rich and poor, the consolidation of corporate power that overwhelms politics and small businesses, and the crazy ways we put money into treasuries: essentially by not taxing sufficiently those most capable of paying taxes. The U.S. Congress just refused to let tax-cut for the very wealthy expire, thus adding to a deficit already surreally expanded by two wars and a military budget that exceeds all other nations' military budgets combined. Our military secures a nation rotting from the inside. Widespread poverty and low wages are low-grade, chronic terrorism.
Washington state has no income tax, so it has to fill its coffers with a sales tax, the impact of which is greater on the poor than on the rich, for obvious reasons. And then there's the lottery.
Meanwhile, The News Tribune, other newspapers, and other media won't report on poverty, bad working conditions, and the impact of low wages. The Tribune once ran a six-part report on a man who operated a driving-school that was a scam. But it won't report on the economically distressed parts of Tacoma or of the rest of the state. Nor it will it report sufficiently on the conditions at the federal detention center in Tacoma, where non-citizens languish in bad conditions; this, too, is an economic issue because a lot the folks in there were supporting families and paying taxes. The Tribune will report extensively on crime but not on how poverty has an impact on crime. To be fair, the TNT is no different from other papers, especially those owned by large chains. Quarterly profits drive editorial decisions. One result is that the TNT ran, on its front page, a story that had been in the Seattle newspaper the day before. On its front page. It wasn't news anymore, but someone must have thought it would sell papers. Why not send a reporter out to write about some aspect of poverty?
And where would I propose to cut (since I'm so smart!). I'd probably start with the salaries of the governor, the legislators, and the upper-level judges. I'd cut the travel budgets for them, too. I'd put an additional sales tax (since an income tax will never happen) on expensive boats and cars--not boats, mind you, that working people are likely to buy for much needed recreation. I'd increase the taxes on hard liquor but not on beer and wine. I know I could find other cuts or additions if I had a look at the budget, but this is a start.
Also in the news is that Tacoma will close two of its library branches. You guessed it: they are both in lower-income areas of the city. What a good idea. The News Tribune should "adopt" at least one of these branches and keep it open. Think of it as an investment--in literacy, in future readers. Oh, and one of the branches is the Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., branch--should we need further agonizing symbolism.
The broader picture is that state can't take care of those who most need care, and it can't even keep its main source of historical memory alive. It can't keep gifted programs open, thus abandoning one great long-term investment. At the national level, the president meets with CEOs but not with those who represent working stiffs and the poor. Congress blows another hole in the budget but won't confront war-spending and military spending, both gaping economic wounds. Meanwhile, the U.S. is the only major industrial nation not to have a comprehensive health-care system for all. In that area, we're inept. And even in Switzerland, where capitalism basks, insurance companies aren't allowed to make a profit on health-care. (That's the case in most countries.). Why? Because it's like shooting fish in a barrel after the water's gone. Everybody gets sick. Why exploit this universal condition for profit--especially when not everyone is insured? Insane.
But that's where we are.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)