jan oskar hansen Poems

Abstract Reasoning

How many years left do I have to drive around on
my little motorbike? Should I write my will?
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On a tropical Paradise’s jetty I stood arguing with a tall man
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A man with no teeth served me breakfast
he began to smile, but thought better of
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A bullet in his head, dumped in a ditch
the poor misguided youngster who came to
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On the shores of Bengal there is a place where they
slaughter ships, tearing them up, almost by hand, into
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Night in the city, streetlamps too far apart, shadows
between them hinder contact. A cat, is it black,
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Rusty, padlocked gate, trees in the big garden need
trimming, on a swing, two rusty chains, it lacks
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Where antique moonlight is swathed around
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Parkgate, on the Wirral, I remember well, one could see
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The woman who couldn’t
get warm tore the wood
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