*
*
*
Regarding Math
(problems, indeed)
Among his several problems with mathematical equations
was that he had no trouble letting x be x and y be y. He
silently advised them to remain letters. He did wish for them
that they didn't have exponents sitting on their shoulders
like unseemly growths. Also a problem is that he saw
both sides of an equation as art--assemblages of parentheses,
letters, numbers, and other symbols--and he didn't care
what they stood for. They stood for the image they created.
Then there was the problem of his seeing--there, in the middle--
an equal-sign. He thought, if each side is content to be equal
to the other, who am I to intrude on this amicable truce?
They were the same, apparently, so let them be. He didn't
care to know their secrets. Forced to solve an equation,
he did so, but it never felt like success, and he never
recalls anyone explaining why equations had to be solved.
He does remember sitting next to pretty girls in math class
and smelling their hair and their thin sweaters, and looking
at their painted nails, and thinking, "Let these girls
stand for beauty. Yes, let's equate them with allure."
Copyright 2011 Hans Ostrom
Friday, November 4, 2011
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Harvest Blade
*
*
*
*
Harvest Blade
Hockey players in uniform float
down a river enlarged
by a massive ice-melt far away.
They hold their sticks high,
rudders without boats. Look, now:
they're followed by last year's
Queen of the Adrenalin Parade,
dressed in a gown of
acetylene blue-and-white.
She rides on a raft made
of synthetic whale-bones.
Violinists from broken
orchestras line the river-bank,
serenading all things that pass
on floods. In shallows,
fish hear strings' vibrations, shimmer;
and shiver. And the glare from the sun
is a blade. It is a harvest blade.
Copyright 2011
*
*
*
Harvest Blade
Hockey players in uniform float
down a river enlarged
by a massive ice-melt far away.
They hold their sticks high,
rudders without boats. Look, now:
they're followed by last year's
Queen of the Adrenalin Parade,
dressed in a gown of
acetylene blue-and-white.
She rides on a raft made
of synthetic whale-bones.
Violinists from broken
orchestras line the river-bank,
serenading all things that pass
on floods. In shallows,
fish hear strings' vibrations, shimmer;
and shiver. And the glare from the sun
is a blade. It is a harvest blade.
Copyright 2011
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Allen Ginsberg and Neal Cassady
This short video is amusing--Neal Cassady seems to perplex Allen Ginsberg as Cassady speaks of Armageddon and "extremists," which probably include Ginsberg:
Ginsberg and Cassady
Ginsberg and Cassady
Monday, October 31, 2011
Questions for Republican Candidates
Some questions I'd like to hear asked of the Republican presidential candidates--or any candidates [Congress, President Obama, e.g.]--in debates:
1. Do you have any close friends who live at, below, or near the poverty-line?
2. What manual-labor jobs have you held--what kind, when, and for how long?
3. Would you explain why the trickling in a "trickle-down" economy is a good thing for those being trickled upon?
4. According to generally accepted economic theory, what is the greater source of economic growth, consumer-demand (from, for example, the middle class) or very rich people?
5. Who is your favorite American poet, and why?
6. Do you have any close friends who are gay or lesbian?
7. What is a favorite novel of yours not published by an American?
8. Why do you think the budget deficit increased during the Reagan years?
9. Who is or was one of your favorite blues performers, and why?
10. In your view, does humanity face an environmental crisis? If not, please say why. If so, please provide a few details about that crisis.
11. What is one of your favorite comic feature-films, and why?
12. What is one of your favorite foreign feature-films, and why?
1. Do you have any close friends who live at, below, or near the poverty-line?
2. What manual-labor jobs have you held--what kind, when, and for how long?
3. Would you explain why the trickling in a "trickle-down" economy is a good thing for those being trickled upon?
4. According to generally accepted economic theory, what is the greater source of economic growth, consumer-demand (from, for example, the middle class) or very rich people?
5. Who is your favorite American poet, and why?
6. Do you have any close friends who are gay or lesbian?
7. What is a favorite novel of yours not published by an American?
8. Why do you think the budget deficit increased during the Reagan years?
9. Who is or was one of your favorite blues performers, and why?
10. In your view, does humanity face an environmental crisis? If not, please say why. If so, please provide a few details about that crisis.
11. What is one of your favorite comic feature-films, and why?
12. What is one of your favorite foreign feature-films, and why?
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Saturday, October 29, 2011
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Monday, October 24, 2011
Zen Golf
re-posting one from a while ago
Zen Golf
Bow to the ball. Apologize
in advance for striking it.
Hit it with your favorite
club in any direction.
It's all a Hole out there--
the course, the world,
reality. Therefore, you
can't not hit a hole in one.
Going dualistic for a moment,
the bad news is that no one
keeps score. Even if someone
did count the strokes, there's
nothing to win. Good news
on the dualistic scale: You're
outside, the club in your hand
gleams, a bird craps on a
rich man's head, and....
Copyright 2011 Hans Ostrom
Zen Golf
Bow to the ball. Apologize
in advance for striking it.
Hit it with your favorite
club in any direction.
It's all a Hole out there--
the course, the world,
reality. Therefore, you
can't not hit a hole in one.
Going dualistic for a moment,
the bad news is that no one
keeps score. Even if someone
did count the strokes, there's
nothing to win. Good news
on the dualistic scale: You're
outside, the club in your hand
gleams, a bird craps on a
rich man's head, and....
Copyright 2011 Hans Ostrom
Big Guitar Blues
Big Guitar Blues
Inspired by three works of art (assemblage and acrylic paint) by Becky Frehse:
Col Legno Battuto, Divisi á Due, and Playing By Heart (2010)
An old guitar enlarges, disrupts my evening, goes
through the roof, and multiplies its frets on up. I fetch
a step-ladder and start climbing between the d
and f strings. In night-air soon wind strums strings
and they buzz me to my bones. It doesn’t take long
to climb past that circular cave-mouth (weird echoes)
and get too high—nice view of city lights: I feel
as if I had to mention that. Knuckles numb,
I start to hum a song I think the strings imply,
as now I hear all six and keep on climbing. Where
does this neck end? Won’t neighbors have reported
this by now? Mist has wetted frets. I slip, barely
hook my elbow on the pipe-sized string, recover.
I’m old, cold, and tired. Now one by one, each string
groans like a different-voiced, mournful beast. Somewhere
in clouds, some picker’s tuning up. O man, O woman,
I got me some of them gargantuan guitar blues,
and I got my slippers on, not shoes.
Hans Ostrom 2011
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Of Time and the Poets
*
*
*
*
Of Time and the Poets
While Since was settling its accounts
with time, Then subsequented right on
down the line. Because pretended to be be
more than it was, as Correlation made
a difference and created some buzz.
Later, when Eventually, Never, Seldom,
and Once raided the place, narrative
lost face, story-tellers interrupted each other,
and poets withdrew to a corner where
Not-That-Much happens any time
it desires; where plots are as tedious
as blueprints, and Immediately shouts,
Can I get an Amen? and Might I Have a Beer?
Copyright 2011 Hans Ostrom
*
*
*
Of Time and the Poets
While Since was settling its accounts
with time, Then subsequented right on
down the line. Because pretended to be be
more than it was, as Correlation made
a difference and created some buzz.
Later, when Eventually, Never, Seldom,
and Once raided the place, narrative
lost face, story-tellers interrupted each other,
and poets withdrew to a corner where
Not-That-Much happens any time
it desires; where plots are as tedious
as blueprints, and Immediately shouts,
Can I get an Amen? and Might I Have a Beer?
Copyright 2011 Hans Ostrom
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Dusk: Rabbit
*
*
*
*
Dusk: Rabbit
Came home from work at dusk.
Saw a rabbit on the grass.
Turned off the car, its lights.
Got out of the car, closed the door.
Was weary. --Long day with humans.
Expected rabbit to run, sound of slamming door. No.
Talked to rabbit, rabbit not having run. Rabbit
Stared. Still. I
Said, "Hey, what's going on?" Rabbit
Hopped. Twice. It
Nibbled clover. Much to do, little time to
Do it in. It
Kept one big eye in silhouette on me. I
Felt better, for I had
Seen a rabbit and
Chatted up a rabbit in twilight. I
Breathed. I
Looked around, And up. And down. I
Held a heavy briefcase,
Wore a heavy coat,
Saw now darkness settle.
Copyright 2011 Hans Ostrom
*
*
*
Dusk: Rabbit
Came home from work at dusk.
Saw a rabbit on the grass.
Turned off the car, its lights.
Got out of the car, closed the door.
Was weary. --Long day with humans.
Expected rabbit to run, sound of slamming door. No.
Talked to rabbit, rabbit not having run. Rabbit
Stared. Still. I
Said, "Hey, what's going on?" Rabbit
Hopped. Twice. It
Nibbled clover. Much to do, little time to
Do it in. It
Kept one big eye in silhouette on me. I
Felt better, for I had
Seen a rabbit and
Chatted up a rabbit in twilight. I
Breathed. I
Looked around, And up. And down. I
Held a heavy briefcase,
Wore a heavy coat,
Saw now darkness settle.
Copyright 2011 Hans Ostrom
Friday, October 21, 2011
A Walk to Occupy
*
*
*
*
A Walk to Occupy
October 15, Tacoma, part of the Occupy movement
We were constrained. By our bodies, the weather,
weariness, sidewalks, and lingering cynicism. By
our common sense, an elusive guide. By the absence
of a need to do too much--to flair or pose or (for
heaven's sake) lead. We'd had quite enough
of that bad comedian, leadership. We showed up
in People's Park on Martin Luther King, Jr.,
Way, next door to the Johnson Candy Company
on The Hilltop. We were old, young, lithe, slow;
bound to wheelchairs, crutches, braces;
under-dressed (shorts in this weather?); bundled up;
staring; smoking; worrying; cell-phoning, texting.
We put a few signs together. A man of 65--
everybody's capable grandfather with a
staple gun--helped. A police cruiser stopped.
The police got out--woman, man. A woman
whose affect has probably gotten her called,
complacently, hippie for several decades
chatted them up. They left.
If I were in power (that impossibly subjunctive
mood), I might worry, if I worried about people,
about the matter-of-factness of it all.
We knew how to do this. Anarchists, long-
shoremen, teamsters, retired teachers and
shop-keepers, an entrepreneur in a three-
piece suit, folk guitarists, well appointed
women with substantial wealth. Someone said,
of all the photographers, "One of these has to
be from the FBI. You know--that face-recognition
software." We were nothing to infiltrate or
subvert. The nature of our beast was as slick
as a seal's back: nothing to get a handle on,
but nonetheless there the seal is: barking,
hungry. As if we already don't have enough to do,
we of the 99% now have to try to fix all the shit
bankerokerages, oligarchs, crazed traders, Ponzi-punks,
and our stupid "representatives" broke. Lethal
greed and misbegotten miscalculation spring from
excess power like hollyhocks from cow manure.
It's not quite a law of physics. It might as well be.
'Occupy Group' thinks Wall Street has too much
power--is short on specifics, said a headline
in a newspaper. That's not specific? Anyway,
we got together. We moved, as people who work
move. Steadily. Efficiently. On time. With purpose.
Go ahead. Have it your way. Ignore us.We'll see you.
Copyright 2011 Hans Ostrom
*
*
*
A Walk to Occupy
October 15, Tacoma, part of the Occupy movement
We were constrained. By our bodies, the weather,
weariness, sidewalks, and lingering cynicism. By
our common sense, an elusive guide. By the absence
of a need to do too much--to flair or pose or (for
heaven's sake) lead. We'd had quite enough
of that bad comedian, leadership. We showed up
in People's Park on Martin Luther King, Jr.,
Way, next door to the Johnson Candy Company
on The Hilltop. We were old, young, lithe, slow;
bound to wheelchairs, crutches, braces;
under-dressed (shorts in this weather?); bundled up;
staring; smoking; worrying; cell-phoning, texting.
We put a few signs together. A man of 65--
everybody's capable grandfather with a
staple gun--helped. A police cruiser stopped.
The police got out--woman, man. A woman
whose affect has probably gotten her called,
complacently, hippie for several decades
chatted them up. They left.
If I were in power (that impossibly subjunctive
mood), I might worry, if I worried about people,
about the matter-of-factness of it all.
We knew how to do this. Anarchists, long-
shoremen, teamsters, retired teachers and
shop-keepers, an entrepreneur in a three-
piece suit, folk guitarists, well appointed
women with substantial wealth. Someone said,
of all the photographers, "One of these has to
be from the FBI. You know--that face-recognition
software." We were nothing to infiltrate or
subvert. The nature of our beast was as slick
as a seal's back: nothing to get a handle on,
but nonetheless there the seal is: barking,
hungry. As if we already don't have enough to do,
we of the 99% now have to try to fix all the shit
bankerokerages, oligarchs, crazed traders, Ponzi-punks,
and our stupid "representatives" broke. Lethal
greed and misbegotten miscalculation spring from
excess power like hollyhocks from cow manure.
It's not quite a law of physics. It might as well be.
'Occupy Group' thinks Wall Street has too much
power--is short on specifics, said a headline
in a newspaper. That's not specific? Anyway,
we got together. We moved, as people who work
move. Steadily. Efficiently. On time. With purpose.
Go ahead. Have it your way. Ignore us.We'll see you.
Copyright 2011 Hans Ostrom
Monday, October 17, 2011
Jesuit Joke
A close friend is reading a book by a Jesuit priest. I don't have the title/author with me, but I'll get it for a subsequent post. Anyway, the book includes this joke, which Jesuits have been familiar with for a while, I gather:
A woman comes to a Jesuit priest and asks whether there's any way she can determine how her very young son will turn out. The priest says, "Yes. Put a glass of milk, a glass of whiskey, and a book in front of him. See which one he grabs for first."
"What will that tell me?" the woman asks.
The priest answers, "If he grabs for the milk, he'll be interested in community service. If he grabs for the whiskey, he'll have a drinking problem. And if he grabs for the book, he'll be an intellectual--and probably argumentative, too."
"What if he grabs for all three at once?" the woman asks.
The priest answers, "Then he'll become a Jesuit."
A woman comes to a Jesuit priest and asks whether there's any way she can determine how her very young son will turn out. The priest says, "Yes. Put a glass of milk, a glass of whiskey, and a book in front of him. See which one he grabs for first."
"What will that tell me?" the woman asks.
The priest answers, "If he grabs for the milk, he'll be interested in community service. If he grabs for the whiskey, he'll have a drinking problem. And if he grabs for the book, he'll be an intellectual--and probably argumentative, too."
"What if he grabs for all three at once?" the woman asks.
The priest answers, "Then he'll become a Jesuit."
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