Hans Ostrom Poems
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...
Weird night: went to this small
dark bistro, got inside- no one there
but a bartender texting on her phone.
The tables were empty except
for mobile phones, some propped,
some lying flat, two or three or
four per table. One table had just