The Poetry Of...
Jan Oskar Hansen.....................................
Night Walker
A hole in a netting fence a bit of dog hairs stuck,
through it up in the air and the wind made them
disappear, this strange day when the moon was
golden and looked muscular compared to setting
sun that had painted white clouds nursery pink of
all colours, I ask you, blue would have fitted my
mood; unthinking sun doesn't even know it exist.
And as night approached phantom steps behind
me and coming closer, no point to stop, turn and
look no, one there and if there were? Anyway it
was only the echo of someone who had walked
here before, taken by the night raven and turned
into an olive tree. As dogs barks through the vale
I know I shall not see her again.
Cinema Fire
It was winter night when Odeon caught fire,
after the last showing of Casablanca, from
a big hole in the roof greedy flames shot up
killing dreams. Grey ash fluttered about as
snow flakes a few landed on the sleeves of
my winter coat: "of all the gin joints,"
heard Rick's voice but saw Ingrid's eyes;
and "as time goes by" pianoed through my
mind the roof collapsed, millions of embers
hissed, like dying stars on slushy snow, it
was 1964.
The Holy Father
The pope, dressed in white and gold, wanted me to push
him- in his wheelchair- through the narrow streets of my
home town; but the cobblestones where uneven and he
was in pain, I lifted him up put him on a stone step so he
could rest a little. A big woman, sat by an open window
across the street, she had the fleshy arms of a housewife
in her prime and looked familiar." Mother, will you ring
for an ambulance the Holy Father is ill and need to go to
hospital." "That costs money you'll have to pay me first"
I haven't any now but will pay you later" "That's what
he used to say," mother shouted. got up and slammed
the window shut. The pope, now dressed in a shabby suit,
tieless and reeking of booze, was my father; I looked up
and said "God, why are you doing this to us?" Silence
echoed in streets where filthy napkins pretended to be
city sparrows. Father opened his eyes and said: "it's ok
son, I never believed in him anyway." It was now just
before Christmas many people about, they didn't see us
and I didn't recognize any of the faces; time had passed
us by, my dead father and I didn't belong here anymore.
