jan oskar hansen Poems

I was young home from the sea, my friends
have a working week, some were already
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He sat on the milk ramp waiting for the noon bus
taking him to the village, to pick up a pair of shoes
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When I left the supermarket she sat in the shade
under the balustrades her skeletal hand cupped
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God and his donkey came walking into
the village in the forenoon,
he was selling lemons, big juicy yellow
ones, I bought two
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How abstract time is,
yet it ages me…
and her.
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Saw her every day at the outskirt of the town
when delivering newspapers,
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September Travel


I’ve packed my suitcase ready to go to Norway in
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The Struggle

I have struggled for decades not to sink into
the morass of years, had been holding on to
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Morning and the Mythical.


On the hazy field a white stallion, with steam
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Haiku

On October street
Pale leaves on silver birches
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