Steve McQueen Square

In Hollywood, Steve Mc-
Queen Square seems to be filled with
a petrol station.


hans ostrom

"An April Day," by Joseph Seamon Cotter, Jr.

"Spuds"--yes, a potato poem

A Student Writes a "Break-Up Letter" to Stanford University

"My Day" (from MAUD), by Tennyson

If I Were a Werewolf

Is All Beige

Is all beige, is the color
of the faces in the long-running
series, "Hollywood Exciting Series,"
with the ubiquitous directionless
lighting that is seen to come from
nowhere and everywhere: large
light bulbs, tin foil that reflects
sunlight as it is in L.A.

There is a script. There is acting.
There is a three-digit number
for the channel on which one may view
"Hollywood Exciting Series."

And we watch. Why? Well, what the fuck
else are we supposed to do,
after working in our jobs,
which are held by the suckers
in society, whereas the all-beiged
"Hollywood Exciting Series"
will make a profit for the ones
who make a profit by moving
their earlier profits into other
profit-making areas. Oh, my.

I'm not against anything.
What would be the fucking point?
I merely state. State haphazardly.
Sometimes I ask. "Are we irrevocably
fucked up?" It's not as though anyone
must answer, unless of course they're
saying something from a script,
and are being paid,
and are beige
because of the lighting
because of the because
because.


hans ostrom 2013

"Salamander Confession"

Cable Television Sample 2013

i want to bring in some uni's,
fan them out, see what they find.

uh, wow?

yeah, I don't normally bring people in here

i collect, too

why did you blow me off?

that makes you honest

it's interesting that he
interesting that she
it's interesting
i find it fascinating

"he got that hand back,
and he didn't tell anybody"

talk to him, tell him you
made a mistake


"I will."

Previously on
PREVIOUSLY,
Martin becomes
a professor


"God doesn't want.?

Go read, go read, go read
your Bible.

"She is in that other series."

Okay, that's enough.

Okay, good night.

Okay, what is your Thursday like?


hans ostrom 2013

The Woman in the Iron Sonnet

Official Correspondence

Don't Look Now, But--

Don't look now but
Kevin Spacey is a bad actor and
Tom Hanks' accent in Forrest Gump
embarrassed. Clint Eastwood
is a cracker, and Jack
Nicholson is just another
Hollywood pig, the opposite
of counter-culture. Don't look now
but all the celebrity authors
are full of shit, completely
full of shit. Don't look now
but the U.S. Senate is a porch
on a Southern plantation
200 years ago. Don't look now but Obama
is to the right of Eisenhower and
it's too fucking late to counter-act
global warming. Don't look now but
the ACLU is impotent but correct.
Don't look now but the U.S.A.
would rather be white-supremacist
and wrong than fair and right.
Don't look now but most
of the Founding Fathers
owned slaves. Hear that:
owned slaves, who were
humans. Don't look now
but white supremacy guides
most American policies.
Don't look now but while
the gun-fetishists suck
their barrels until the barrels
shoot bullets, oh, oh,
the gub-ment
takes away the real shit,
such as money, such as rights.
Don't look now but "we"
add 10 million people per
year--which is like a Los
Angeles, which is too much
for the planet to bear.
Consider how much water
10 million people drink
and how much shit 10 million people
shit. Don't look now but
the U.S.A bombs whomever
the fuck they want--thanks
to your tax dollerz.
Don't look now but cynical realism
looks like idealism,
and your pessimism
can't keep up.
Don't look now. Don't look.



hans ostrom 2013

"Piazza Piece," by John Crowe Ransom

Book Trailer: HONORING JUANITA

"Shiloh," by Herman Melville

For St. Patrick's Day--"Irish Wake," by Langston Hughes

"Armageddon," by Georgia Douglas Johnson

"Eight O'Clock," by A.E. Housman

I'm Guessing All

I'm guessing all
we can know for sure
is that when the
time comes, all
will be different
from what we had
expected, predicted.
Yes, it will be
different from
what we had imagined
when we get there,
when we get to the time,
when time comes
to get us.



Hans Ostrom 2013

"Afterglow," by Georgia Douglas Johnson

A Fabulous Free Source for Learning Linear Algebra

College textbooks have become notoriously, outrageously expensive, and publishers often play a game of bringing out new editions that have relatively little new material but just enough new material that a student can't really get by with an older, much less expensive, used copy.

Well, if you're taking or teaching linear algebra or are otherwise interested in the subject, there are some great free sources for you, thanks to my colleague at the University of Puget Sound, Rob Beezer, Professor Mathematics. Rob and I share an interest in the possibilities of online publishing, print-on-demand, and so on--he from the math world, I from the poetry and fiction and teaching creative writing worlds.

So check out Rob's site: http://linear.ups.edu/

The first paragraph you'll see there is . . .

A First Course in Linear Algebra is an introductory textbook designed for university sophomores and juniors. Typically such a student will have taken calculus, but this is not a prerequisite. The book begins with systems of linear equations, then covers matrix algebra, before taking up finite-dimensional vector spaces in full generality. The final chapter covers matrix representations of linear transformations, through diagonalization, change of basis and Jordan canonical form. Along the way, determinants and eigenvalues get fair time. There is a comprehensive online edition and PDF versions are available to download for printing or on-screen viewing. Physical copies may be purchased from the print-on-demand service at Lulu.com.

So, if you want a "hard" copy you MAY buy one, but you don't have to. You may download a pdf or read the book online. And here the address for the online version:

http://linear.ups.edu/html/fcla.html

And here is a link to "Knowls," which enhances your browsing experience for such math-related things.

Sadly, although Rob and I share an interest in the Creative Commons, free or near-free textbooks, print-on-demand, and so on, linear algebra to me looks mainly like some mighty pretty hieroglyphics. I did well in Algebra I in high school. Like Wordsworth, I also really dug geometry. Then things started to fuzzy with Algebra II, and I finally got lost in the wilderness of trigonometry.

But if you've forged on ahead and are exploring linear algebra, check out Rob's fabulous free and excellent textbook material, which includes not just answers to the problems but examples of how one gets to the right answer.

"Critic," by Hans Ostrom

Fever

The old woman who slid the pan
of cookies into my brain's oven
never came back. The cookies
turned into black dots that float
across my vision. I reek of burnt
dough. I lie on my side like a

buffalo who's reading Hegel
on a parched Kansas plain.
Invisible merchants empty
microscopic vats of hot slime
on my neck, my forehead.
A thin woman with cold fingers
practices scales on my spine.

A chorus of angelic rats
prevents me from nodding off.
I raise one hand as if
to conduct their performance,
and I pass out.



hans ostrom 2013

My Diary Went on Strike

My diary went on strike.
It said, "Damn, your life is dull.
I'm not letting my pages work for you
until something changes."

"So you're a union organizer now?"
I asked. My diary said, "Hey, I have
to protect my people, my pages."

I said, "Okay. I'll make it more
interesting. Even if I have to lie."

"That's fine," my diary said.

"Even if I make up shit?" I said.

"Of course," said my diary. "I'm
a labor-guy, not a tyrant."



hans ostrom 2013

An American Political Reformation

No, there isn't any revolution coming. For
the FBI will have infiltrated it before it
starts. A reformation (go figure) will be
more revolutionary. Here's the deal:

White working-class people will have to stop
taking Right Wing bait like dumb catfish.
Friends, the Black president isn't coming after
your guns. The real problem is that he and
every other president is willing to let
the system come after your wages, your cash,
your house. Shake hands with Black folks,
White folks. Shake hands with each other.
You';re not each other's enemy, you dig?

Neither Party gives a shit about you.

To repeat: Neither Party gives a shit about you.

To go Sixties for a moment: get your shit
together. Fuck with their heads. What if
neither Party could count on your support
unless it did something serious
about your economic well being? That
is a very simple question.

Stop letting these people pimp your
fears. Ask them how they will make your
life--your life--not the life of your guns
or your prejudices, better. Friends,
get your shit together, fuck with their
heads, and change the rules.


hans ostrom, 2013

"After the Winter," by Claude McKay

Wealth-Distribution in the U.S.: Video

Here is a link to a brief video about how wealth is distributed (who has what) in the U.S. If you think you might want to watch, you might first do two things: guess what the distribution is. That is, what % of the wealth is owned by the top 20 %? What % by the bottom 20%? And so on. Then sketch out what your preferable distribution might be. Of course, your view might be "let the chips fall where they may." But it's possible that you think that the graph-line should be a little smoother because (for example) local economies depend on people having enough cash to buy sandwiches, tools, cars, and so on. At any rate, here's the address: http://mashable.com/2013/03/02/wealth-inequality/

When An Epiphany Goes Flat

I was about to have
an epiphany when
the sum-bitch just
went all to hell on me.

It fell apart
and left me there staring
at the thing I'd been
staring at, feeling
nothing now. When

an epiphany goes flat,
you can't jack up
the frame and fix
the thing. You
just have to move on through
the dullness of
an everyday ride.




Hans Ostrom, 2013

"Bear Nearby," by Hans Ostrom

Overheard: It Changes, and It's Changing

The problem with
having everything online
is that it changes
all the time, and
it's changing.



--Hans Ostrom 2013

Found Poem: They're All Dead, Ashes

Message on my phone
when I arrived home that
I was late for the grooming
appointment for my animals.
They'll be hard to groom.
They're all dead, ashes.....



found Feb. 27 2013
hans ostrom 2013

"Stanzas for Music," by Lord Byron

"Venice, Carnivale," by Hans Ostrom

"Love's Memories," by John Clare

"Little Blue Cups," by Hans Ostrom

Phone as Phone

Telephone.
Tele-phone.
Telephonetics.

"Telephone!" we used to shout
"Phone--for you!"
"Somebody get that phone!"

And today someone
said to me, "Are you
saying that you use
your phone as a phone?"

And I confessed, yes,
"I don't use any of the
apps."



Hans Ostrom, 2013

Edna St. Vincent Millay's birthday

Happy birthday, Ms. Millay, and thanks for the poems.

A link to a reading of "To Those Without Pity":


reading

"Malcolm X," by Gwendolyn Brooks

"Chardin's 'Still Life With Fish,'"

The Next Big Thing: Interview

Writer C.E. Putnam has "tagged" me in the authorial game of "the next big thing," in which one answers questions about a project and then "tags" other writers. My self-interview appears below, and I am "tagging" Renee Simms, Dolen Perkins-Valdez, Laurie Frankel, Suzanne Warren, Sandy Evans, Tamiko Nimura, and Carter Monroe.

What is the working title of the book?

Without One

Where did the idea come from for the book?

I was thinking about flesh-eating bacteria, and I wondered what would happen, socially, if there were a bacteria that destroyed men’s penises but otherwise left them physically healthy. –That is, an epidemic, like AIDS (when it first arose), with vast social and psychological implications.

What genre does your book fall under?

Social satire, based on a science-fiction premise, with lots of stuff about romance, sexuality, politics—and questions of masculinity and “manhood,” obviously.


What actors would you choose to play the part of your characters in a movie rendition?

A friend in Hollywood thinks Seth Rogan would be perfect for one role. Peter Gallagher, maybe, for another role. Emilie De Ravin, Melissa Benoist. Steve Buscemi—maybe he could direct it--since we're fantasizing here.


What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?

Because of a bizarre new epidemic, something is happening to men: their penises are falling off.

How long did it take you to write the first draft of the manuscript?

First draft—probably 18 months.


Who or what inspired you to write this book?

As always, I inspired myself. I’m a one-person crew, for better or worse. You do what you can. I also wanted to see if I could write it. I’d say I’m a poet by nature, so novels are still quite daunting to me, even though I’ve written a few.

What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?

Implications of the penis-plague, which is known as Rapid Penile Degeneration Syndrome (RAPIDS), go all the way to . . .the White House!

Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

The book is now available on Kindle, and two agents have asked to look at it.

It's a Curious Thing

There are some people
(I’m one) who negotiate
their membership
in the family they’re
born into. They get by.

They continue to cope
and manage as they
move through other groups—
schools and jobs,
communities. But they
never belong. They’re
not exactly loners or
outcasts. In a way,
that would be easier–
the lines sharp.

They always feel
themselves to be
provisional members,
probationary,
forever trying to figure out
the rules and codes,
always and ultimately
awkward, no matter
how “successful.” This is no

complaint, only observation.
It is the shape of the path
for some of us—that’s all.
It is a curious thing, that’s all.


Hans Ostrom, 2013

"Hospital," by Hans Ostrom

"Squirrels," by Hans Ostrom

The Planet's Disease

Industrial humanity's become
a bad disease the planet suffers from.



Hans Ostrom, 2013

"Message from a Bookmark," by Hans Ostrom

"Worrisome Quatrain," by Hans Ostrom

Desire of the Keys

And the keys said,
"Let us off this metal ring.
We want to lead our
separate lives, travel
our chosen corridors,
try many locks,
and be seized
by an adventure of hands."


Hans Ostrom 2013

"Nights of Music," by Thomas Moore

"Poets and Critics," by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

"Dear March - Come In," by Emily Dickinson

No Answer to the Ocean

It's like this, maybe: A tide comes in.


It brings things you come to believe.


There they are, objects on glassy sand.


They're what's come of all your coping.


A stone, a crab-shell, a worn piece of


wood, a string of kelp. They're no answer


to the ocean. They don't add up to a code.



You keep walking on the beach,


trying to figure things out. There's


nothing wrong with that--walking,


wondering. What are you hoping for?





Hans Ostrom

"The Silent Voices," by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Elvis in the Holy Land

(based on found language)


Deadline approaching
to book
Elvis tour to
Holy
Land.



hans ostrom

"The Tide Rises, The Tide Falls," by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Sacramento Capitol Mall

Politicos stride like totalitarian colonels.

Professionals lean into conversations

about cash-flow, internal control, and impact (a verb).

Winos stand against a wall and shiver

their way out of hallucination,

their shirt-fronts soaked with the Lamb's

most inexpensive blood; bums pick through rubbish

and sleep under news; the mad testify

to streetlights and themselves.

No one runs for office anymore

except the staffs of those who ran before.

They govern each other and whisper about us.

Sunlight remains democratic.

We walk in it together

between the muddy river and the capitol.

We are lobbyist and lunatic, accountant and pickpocket,

admin-assistant, tech-person, plumber,

and Ph.D. student writing about

power-relationships.

I find myself wondering not at all

about the powerful. I focus on a trembling hand

that picks through garbage. I fork over

a few bucks to the hand's person.

who gargles the words, "God bless you."

 Somewhere there’s a photo

of that man when he was six years old

and squinting at the camera, happy in a summer

in another state.

Maybe you finally come to hate poverty

enough to pursue it as an art;

maybe a thousand left hooks in the downtown gym

finally leave your brain fizzed like pink champagne,

and you're on the street mumbling to a corner man

who isn't there. Or somebody dies, and your way

of understanding that is to let go the things

that hint of looking forward,

including the grammar of love,

and love of self, and taking tomorrow straight.

Yeah, so, I gave him a few bucks, which will

go for booze, not a sandwich, and I don’t care

because it’s not my money anymore,

and as the Capitol might whisper,

it never was. 

Copyright 2013 hans ostrom

"El Greco's 'Christ on the Cross,'" by Hans Ostrom

"The Spell is Broke, the Charm is Flown!" by Lord Byron

Twice-Believing Creatures

Twice-Believing Creatures

Crickets sing the word "ceasing" electronically

in dirt and dry stalks.

A heavy black beetle turns his belly

to the cosmos, plucks with his six feet

at the needles of a darkening pine bough.

The Magician dances out of straw. He is Dusk;

he juggles the sun and the moon and the evening star.

Here and there a few are alert,

some curious, some thankful--like the deer,

weary of swishing horseflies away

from their backsides all day and hungry

after the heavy afternoon;--like the raccoon,

waddling off to make a living at the pond's edge;

--and the tireless child, the old man

who stands near his garden listening to the corn grow,

and the woman with her hands folded,

singing out loud to nobody.

They know that dusk takes today's body

and brings another after an interlude of dreaming.

They know nothing of the sort;

they are as dubious as the light at dusk.

They know the world to be as new

as the note of a gnat in the ear, as old

as the lizard's dry smirk,

a boulder's personality, darkness.

Hans Ostrom, 2013

"My People," by Langston Hughes

"Tobaconnists," by Karl Shapiro

"Thy Body As It Is," anon.

"An Essay on Man," ii, 1-18, by Alexander Pope

Nude Up and Get in a Pile

It may have been a line
from North Dallas Forty.
Anyway, we’d quote it
at the bar and laugh.
The thing is, pre-AIDS,
you might think you
were headed home
in a silver Camaro after
the bars closed
in California’s inimitable
Central Valley.  Then you might
stop at a red light, two lanes,
and two women you knew
barely might laugh, roll
down the window, and
suggest, “Follow us.”
And, wow, there you’d be,
nuded up and in, no,
not a pile, but an expansive
naked arrangement of
three or four or five.
It was a gas, a blast, a trip:
listen to the lingo change
down the ages. Olive oil
on large breasts, the
several positions, good
clean fun. Of course, in
an apartment of your brain,
you knew the party had
to end—that night; and for you;
and for a generation.  Microbes,
maturity, and so on. None-
the-less: at the stop-light,
in a Camaro, a little loaded
on whiskey and weed and
maybe a line: the light,
the spark, of mischief.
Good clean fun in
an era everybody and
his mother, as we said,
would not just forget but
not know existed.

*
*
hans ostrom 2013

"Everything Is Looted," by Anna Akhmatova

"Friends Who Have Failed," by Alan Williamson

"As a Good Tailor Knows," by Jason Shinder

"How Strange," by Gwenolyn B. Bennett

Hiram Displays a Bad Attitude Toward Popular Cinema

Hiram, in his cups, which had been full
of vodka, says, "Let the miserable blob
lay. Lay the miserable fucking blob. Lay
miserly blob. Hey, Miz, lay Miz, Fizz Miz."

I can fill in the rest.  It isn't so much
the genre of musical, or the tears
being squeezed out of melodrama
like hot fat from cooked bacon,
or the celebrity-actors shoved out
in front of the cameras like mannequins
with entourages, or that the Public
eats this shit up, it's the combination
of all five; and more--that gnaws
at Hiram's sense of what is all right.

 "The whole fucking thing . . .," Hiram mumbles.
The combination. The combinations.
That's what gets a body down. In an age
of Packaging, Hiram opposes the Package.


hans ostrom 2013

"Some Hands Are Lovelier," by Mae V. Cowdery

"Dusk," by Mae V. Cowdery

Mentioned Honorably

This is to inform
you that you received
an Honorable Mention
in the recent publication,
Who's Who In Global Obscurity.


hans ostrom 2013

"Paul Robeson," by Gwendolyn Brooks

"Palm," by Rainier Maria Rilke

Sudden Infinity

not sure.
do know history's owned.
driver's ed.

the allies. you remember them.
cut the heads off.
indescribable scene.
sources say myth.
sources say fear.
sources. say.
sources. "the thing is,
he had to have known."

percentages on the back end, said
my friend in Hollywood, which
does not give
does not give
does not give
a
shit.
in other news, we, collectively,
have raised the average
temperature.
what to do?
 did you say, "what to do?"
well then to that i say,
yes, let us ask and let us try
to
answer


hans ostrom 2013

"Dawn" by Angelina Weld Grimke

"Man in a Hole," by Hans Ostrom

Man, Bicycle, Shirts, and Crows

With his right hand, a man
pushed a bicycle. With his left
hand he carried five white shirts
on hangers, covered in transparent
plastic.  Three crows yelled.
They said, Get on that bike
and ride, brother! Wear black,
wear black, wear black!


Hans Ostrom, c. 2013

"Orchard in January," by Richard Wilbur

"The Wayfarers," by Rupert Brooke

Gothic Fog

He stepped outside
and rubbed the fog,
its pliant hide. What's
inside you? he asked.

No answer. Just muffled
rumblings. Suddenly
a woman's hand emerged,
caressed his cheek and neck.

"Come in," a female voice
said clearly. He entered
the fog. In there, faces floated
like unlit paper lanterns.

A chorus of moans arose.
He turned to escape, but
elsewhere had vanished.
He was inside the fog now.

He moaned.


hans ostrom, 2013

Gardener's Soft Porn

After the first seed-catalogue
arrives in Winter,  I paw through
it as eagerly as I gawked
at my older brother's
Playboy when I was 15.


hans ostrom, 2013

"Waltzing," by Hans Ostrom

Poet's Musings: Torture

 Re-posting one from 4 years ago.

Link below:


Poet's Musings: Torture: In a discussion-group recently, we read Poems From Guantanamo, edited by Marc Falkoff. As you might guess from the title, the poems were wr...

Waltzing

Oh, let us hold
each other turning
slowly ‘round
the floor. A waltz
is humorous
and kind, old-
fashioned intimate.
We’re a little high.

Oh, the perfume
of your hair, the
architecture of
your back, the
present of the
presence of
your hand in mine.



Hans Ostrom, 2013

Over, and Not Over

the big election is over
the most recent atrocity is over
the most recent Winter holidays are over
also the latest predicted apocalypse, over
the morning news, over
cup of coffee, over
cats fed, over
work, work--over
not over is
my lifelong
need to do
things for
people &
worry about
keeping
them pleased so
that i may get
some
sense of my
worth. this search
for worth, not over.


Hans Ostrom 2013

Zen Treasure-Map

On a Zen treasure-map,
there’s an X but no lines
or place-names. The four
directions are all marked E.
What you do is, you carry
the map with you at all times
and assume wherever you are,
is X—where treasure lies!


Hans Ostrom, 2013

"Retired Oracle," by Hans Ostrom

Sex in a Graveyard

We were all sinew and youth,
impulse, tendon, and sex.
When we fucked in the graveyard,
we probably didn’t think
of ourselves as fucking…
We didn’t think of desecration.
Or of ghosts. We lay on cool
concrete that topped a tomb.
We heard creatures stir: I
suspected a doe in the sweet-pea
vines that covered the wire fences.
Moonlight made it through
the canopy of old oak branches
and shone on your body as it
arced above mine: rib-cage,
nipples, breasts, neck, hair,
face, abdomen.. . . Afterwards,
you clutched me close, on top of
me who lay on top of corpses.
Young, anyone might fuck
in a graveyard. Later, they’ll
think of the holding-close, the clutching,
the chill on flesh, everything that happens
before, and after.


Hans Ostrom 2013

"Bric-á-brac," by Dorothy Parker

word hospital

misspelled words visit
a dictionary to get
themselves corrected.


hans ostrom

The Number of Likes in the New Era

(found language)


i want to puke bc 
my friends'  lives now revolve 
around the number of likes their pictures get on facebook
 and instagram and there are only a handful left who still have souls
 so who wants to be my friend


hans ostrom 2012

I Like your URL: Compliments in the New Era

(found language)

I like your URL
 and seriously enjoy your blog
One of muh favs! :3
And your smiles amazuhn! Lol
and you are  so not rude. Lol
you're seriously love
on here,  though--
like one person says something and
10 peeps back you up(: I enjoy that.


hans ostrom 2012

Cousins of Tumblr

bumblr
cumblr
dumblr
fumblr
gumblr
humblr
jumblr
lumbrblr
mumblr
numblr
plumblr
quotumblr
rumblr
summrblur
[     ]
vumblr
wumblr
xumblr
yumblr
zumblr


hans ostrom

"Theatre of the Absurd," by Hans Ostrom

Seed Thoughts

after the longest
night of the year, i begin to
think of gardening.


hans ostrom

Translation by Kenneth Rexroth

Someone told me it's Kenneth Rexroth's birthday today.

Here is link to a reading of a translation by him of a Chinese poem:

"Starting at Dawn"

"Perpetual Winter Never Known," by David Gascoyne

i have seen the people

i have seen the people walking
in cities and talking to the things held up
to their ears. i have seen the people
everywhere looking down at these things
in their hands and tapping at the things
with their fingers the way raccoons
touch moonlit water.  the things sometimes
illumine the faces of the people
as if to say, “here, here is light to light
your face as you look at this thin thing and tap
with your fingers.”  sometimes i have wanted

to make love to some of the women who look down
at their the things in their hands and tap
with their fingers. it is an idle desire, a fancy.
even i do not take it seriously, i say to you.

i say to you, let the people
talk to the things held up to their ears.
let them tap with their fingers.
let them communicate the living hell
out of life and leave messages and
send texts, summon maps, download
apps, and upload lodes of info-laden
digitation. i say to you let the people
update, and let them post. if i

should be talking to you
in a cafe and briefly take a rhetorical
stand in favor of intimacy and sex
in place of the way people work with
these thin things they hold
in their hands, please ignore me.
i say to you, i am

not always so old-fashioned, out-of-step,
and creepy. i say to you, even as you may
sit across from me, yes, to ahead and
tap on that thing, hold
it up to your year, speak into it, and listen.
update and post. save and delete.
i say to you i can wait. i will think thoughts.

Hans Ostrom, 2012

Because Reality Doesn't Tire

I moved a stretched-out worm
from wet concrete to dirt. Heard
a U.S. Air Force plane scrape
the space between here and that
imaginary sky. Noticed how
people do what they can
to maintain wood and masonry
exteriors of their abodes but
eventually surrender to stains,
cracks, rot, moss, and grit.
Because reality doesn't tire
and we do, it's easier to watch TV
and recover from work than to work
on shelter's exterior all the
goddamned time. It just is.


Hans Ostrom, 2012

Gil Scott-Heron - Gun