Jan G. Otterstrom F.

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Broad leaf heavy shade
enclosing, defeating the
reason for light, unrepentant
heinous heat, merciless sun
of the day, passed hour’s
relief, heretical clouds
approach from the East
portending rain.

I fell into my desire
an empty space bidding
me enter, the net of
my imagination dragging
me submerged, gasping
for air, drawing a shade
across my mind, blank
with awe, more than
I had dreamed, unable to
restore the moment
that had exploded across
my screen.

Revolution is an idea, ethereal
quest to discover the best within
forming a model for the world
experiment of change, the shades
of which are gradual, Moses
wandered his people forty years
Fidel now fifty, the results
still pending T.V.


Pale of morning light, somber
along the shaded avenues
curbs of bright sun, crossing
squinting to return again
the tunnel of trees above
brushed to the limits of green
floating emeralds, then evening
with ghostly shadows, shade of night.

Sitting on the veranda UNEAC
dozing, my eyelids heavy, head
wobbling forward, jerk myself
awake as my mind drifts off
to another day, surrounded
by leafy plants, green inviting
here cool protected while
beyond the filigree of iron work
the bright sun is blazing.

C  Jan G. Otterstrom F.
     May 16, 2009
     La Habana, Cuba