Friday, December 12, 2025

Skeleton

It is a kind of photo you’ve seen
Before--a lot. It’s of a skeleton
The diggers have exposed. They’ve brushed
Away the dirt and clay except
Around the rib-cage. The skeleton,
Antique by human standards, lies on
Its side. You see the skull, the teeth,
The fleshless grin—or grimace? Scream?

This time you press upon the image a
Mortified deep sorrow; no: deeper: shame.
All camouflage and pretense srtipped
Away. No garments, skin, or jewels,
No hair or flesh or flab, organs, blood.
Just the once-used, useless calcium frame,
Which diggers brush. And just the
Gaping mouth. The ideas that person had
Are scattered atoms now--at best.

And yes, you feel death’s scandal, which
A body with its brain must face as fact.
It is no wonder faith in an Otherness appeals.

hans ostrom 2025

"Shine Some Light On It," by Hans Ostrom, Lyrics, and Lena Heywell, vocals

"You're Grand," by Hans Ostrom, Lyrics, and Lenox LeCarre, Vocals

Sunday, December 7, 2025

The Curator

 We think we've recalled

the best segments, short

or long, of life. (Let's leave

the worst on a smoking

slag heap as we speak.)


I know I've blanked many

good moments. I wish I'd

had a curator with me along

the ways to say, "This one,

store this one in the lock box."


If I could only poke around there

in memory with a digger's

trowel and brush. Then hold

up a lost treasured memory to the

sun, and smile, and breathe,

and sit to let the whole

recovered scene fill me

like a room accepting pine scent.


hans ostrom 2025