Hans Ostrom Poems
Comments about Hans Ostrom
In a wilderness of reasons
not to write, he wrote. Just wrote.
Each word was the belief
in the possibility of the next.
He kept it going.
Mostly his days and words talk
quietly, though he could rant and rage.
Mention is what his voices usually do
in a world of self-convinced noise.
Truth mentioned is a sweet brass
note you’ll never forget. Writing,
Langston showed writing to be
an unashamed act, one of the few
in a shameful, shaming world. Words
grin. Words reside. Words throw
a meal together for unexpected friends,
make a garden...
And Now, Whether
Today’s whether report
calls for increasing perplexity
in the morning hours,
followed by intermittent
quandaries in the afternoon,
with wonderstorms tonight.
Tomorrow ought to be fraught
with absurdity, though there’s
a possibility of patchy meaning late.