Her cool naked breasts:
so lovely to kiss. And
to suck. And her response
to that, subtle moans, a
word, and something like
laughter in her throat.
Then comes a kind
of gentle tumble into
the physical, mental
rest of it, the rest of
it, such riches of the
instants in which
two lives overlap.
Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
At a Restaurant Alone
Sometimes, when
you go to a restaurant
alone, the person
who greets you says,
"Will there be just
one, then?" You don't
know why the future
tense is used. And
you feel as if you've
committed an error.
Maybe, you think,
you should say,
"No, let me go back
out the door and grab
someone so there will
be two," or "No,
there's another person
inside me, trying to
get out," or "No,
set a place for each
of my three
imaginary friends,
in which case there
will be four, then."
Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom
you go to a restaurant
alone, the person
who greets you says,
"Will there be just
one, then?" You don't
know why the future
tense is used. And
you feel as if you've
committed an error.
Maybe, you think,
you should say,
"No, let me go back
out the door and grab
someone so there will
be two," or "No,
there's another person
inside me, trying to
get out," or "No,
set a place for each
of my three
imaginary friends,
in which case there
will be four, then."
Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom
May I Clarinet Your Thighs?
"The formation of substitution and contamination in speech-mistakes is, therefore, the beginning of that work of condensation which we find taking a most active part in the construction of a dream." --Sigmund Freud, Psychopathology of Everyday Life
May I clarinet your thighs
and explicate your savanna? If
you charm it to be desirable,
I should like to alluviate down
on the excellence established
between your doric expenditures.
Listen: Let me emigrate with you
on blue and mahogany. Let us
forest the open-air museum of our
deft velvet, our fragrant fur
and slick, moist rubrics.
Oh, my dearest pungent storm,
please tell me how you'd like your
candelabra ordained in ecstasy!
Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom
May I clarinet your thighs
and explicate your savanna? If
you charm it to be desirable,
I should like to alluviate down
on the excellence established
between your doric expenditures.
Listen: Let me emigrate with you
on blue and mahogany. Let us
forest the open-air museum of our
deft velvet, our fragrant fur
and slick, moist rubrics.
Oh, my dearest pungent storm,
please tell me how you'd like your
candelabra ordained in ecstasy!
Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom
Descriptors
bookworm, voluptuary, clodhopper,
fool, lummox, clown, dark horse,
horse's ass, sleeper, empath, recluse,
gadfly, hick, draught-horse, coward,
knot-head, stalwart, naif, hustler,
rabble, contrarian, soft-touch,
laborer, pedant, poet, scavenger,
hack, scholar, idealist, vagabond,
hayseed, addict, loser, winner, dunce,
nobody, cast-off, straggler, pussy-hound,
scribbler, true-blue, oaf, lover, dabbler,
sensualist, mystic, literalist, plodder,
plodder. Plodder.
Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom
fool, lummox, clown, dark horse,
horse's ass, sleeper, empath, recluse,
gadfly, hick, draught-horse, coward,
knot-head, stalwart, naif, hustler,
rabble, contrarian, soft-touch,
laborer, pedant, poet, scavenger,
hack, scholar, idealist, vagabond,
hayseed, addict, loser, winner, dunce,
nobody, cast-off, straggler, pussy-hound,
scribbler, true-blue, oaf, lover, dabbler,
sensualist, mystic, literalist, plodder,
plodder. Plodder.
Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom
Stuck in a Blues Song
I'm going down to the river. I'm
stuck in a blues song. Going down
to the train yard. Stuck in a blues
song. Going down the road, down
to a reckoning. Been stuck in a blues
song so long. Gonna get
evicted from an empty place, convicted
of a crime I did not do, and conscripted
to work in just an awful damn job, oh
yes. Going to go down to the juke joint,
where the blades flash and I lose my
cash, stuck in a blues song. Yeah, my
baby's long gone and I'm stuck, no luck,
yeah; yeah, stuck in a blues song.
Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom
stuck in a blues song. Going down
to the train yard. Stuck in a blues
song. Going down the road, down
to a reckoning. Been stuck in a blues
song so long. Gonna get
evicted from an empty place, convicted
of a crime I did not do, and conscripted
to work in just an awful damn job, oh
yes. Going to go down to the juke joint,
where the blades flash and I lose my
cash, stuck in a blues song. Yeah, my
baby's long gone and I'm stuck, no luck,
yeah; yeah, stuck in a blues song.
Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom
Entertainment
...The lovely and tainted Matilda,
ladies and rattlesnakes! Please
fire a round of a pause for Matilda!
Next up for your mooing pleasure
is the Present. Watch as two trillion
compressed images hammer your
optic nerve. Staggering is a normal
response. The bleeding will stop.
For paranoia lasting more than four
hours, call a fish, make a wish,
and give yourself an encore. You've
been a terrific audience!
Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom
ladies and rattlesnakes! Please
fire a round of a pause for Matilda!
Next up for your mooing pleasure
is the Present. Watch as two trillion
compressed images hammer your
optic nerve. Staggering is a normal
response. The bleeding will stop.
For paranoia lasting more than four
hours, call a fish, make a wish,
and give yourself an encore. You've
been a terrific audience!
Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom
Desired Things
They're looking in a window
at things to buy. They
couldn't say why
they want the things,
except the items seem
fantastic. The light is such
that one of the people sees
in reflection the ghostly image
of a person who lives
on the street and works
full time at persisting. The
eyes of the buyer hover
on the image of this other
and then adjust to ignore
that light, that image, and
to see through glass again
at the desired things.
Copyright Hans Ostrom 2012
at things to buy. They
couldn't say why
they want the things,
except the items seem
fantastic. The light is such
that one of the people sees
in reflection the ghostly image
of a person who lives
on the street and works
full time at persisting. The
eyes of the buyer hover
on the image of this other
and then adjust to ignore
that light, that image, and
to see through glass again
at the desired things.
Copyright Hans Ostrom 2012
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Html: Poem
and so you stand or sit
and drop these packets
of words into the electronic
river. off they float--
and yet they stay,
retrievable, for the river
flows and freezes both at once,
visible to all, theoretically.
in practice the electronic river
is a vast obscuring mass,
an orderly crash
of infodataimage.
these word-packets
are lost and found,
gone and here,
disappeared and
recovered like the legendary
vowels missing from the ancient,
mysterious word, Html,
the pronunciation of which
the imaginary scholars
at Borges University
bicker about over
glasses of claret
in the Minotaur Library.
Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom
and drop these packets
of words into the electronic
river. off they float--
and yet they stay,
retrievable, for the river
flows and freezes both at once,
visible to all, theoretically.
in practice the electronic river
is a vast obscuring mass,
an orderly crash
of infodataimage.
these word-packets
are lost and found,
gone and here,
disappeared and
recovered like the legendary
vowels missing from the ancient,
mysterious word, Html,
the pronunciation of which
the imaginary scholars
at Borges University
bicker about over
glasses of claret
in the Minotaur Library.
Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom
Advertising: The Literary Genre of the Age
After, oh, 1920, let's say,
advertising became
the dominant literary genre.
It's stories, images, and ethos
hold culture's imagination.
Advertising's the myth,
the epic poem, the novel,
the drama of our age.
Other genres pretend
at the edges, play at their
old importance. It is assumed
that publishers advertise novels,
especially best-sellers, that studios
advertise films, especially
block-busters, and that other
studios advertise music, but
novels and films and music
and the rest
publicize advertising,
the master genre
that sells space, real
and virtual, and that turns
a profit, which is the god
of our creation myth.
Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom
advertising became
the dominant literary genre.
It's stories, images, and ethos
hold culture's imagination.
Advertising's the myth,
the epic poem, the novel,
the drama of our age.
Other genres pretend
at the edges, play at their
old importance. It is assumed
that publishers advertise novels,
especially best-sellers, that studios
advertise films, especially
block-busters, and that other
studios advertise music, but
novels and films and music
and the rest
publicize advertising,
the master genre
that sells space, real
and virtual, and that turns
a profit, which is the god
of our creation myth.
Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom
Monday, June 25, 2012
Sunday, June 24, 2012
Saturday, June 23, 2012
Friday, June 22, 2012
Thursday, June 21, 2012
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Monday, June 18, 2012
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