Jan Oskar Hansen Poems

Birthday

A day of sadness and wasted years a poet who
has to pay to be published how pathetic is that?
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A quickie in the kitchen
I’m quite a normal sort of person Ì do not steal and
only lie with passion. In the house, we lived in there
were two flats on the second floor, a lady rented a
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Ratcatcher
I feel repulsed when he is near I ought to have
compassion for this cripple a twisted foot and
an arm that does not function right a beggar with
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Shades of Green
I have a green windbreaker, but it looks like
a uniform jacket I impulsively I put it on looked
in the mirror, an old general on an alpine walk
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The Disappearance
It was a hot afternoon when a big bulk carrier left a harbour
on the coast of Bengali bound for Sydney, Australia, with a cargo
of scrap iron of ships that once had ploughed the seas that had
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The Disappearance
It was a hot afternoon when a big bulk carrier left a harbour
on the coast of Bengali bound for Sydney, Australia, with a cargo
of scrap iron of ships that once had ploughed the seas that had
...

Bio Mass.
I have had an intimate connection with effluence or
to use a more proper word, shit of the animal kind
I could by the aroma alone know which animal had
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The End of Poetry
I refuse, refuse to write anymore my head
is a winter turnip you can slice fry and pretend
it is schnitzel served with spinach and mashed
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Winter of Discontent

The cloudiness has settled in the sky
And act as an unpalatable truth of the kind
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Going home.

On the plain of Alentejo
sacred green grass ornamented with white flowers.
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