From A Diary of the Plague Year (15)

People are making
each other sick.
They're always
making each other sick,
and now the plague.

I'm sure in the lost
notes of Moses and
background material
for other religions
we'll find discarded
commandments,
entreaties, and revelations
along the lines of
Don't make each other sick.

A brainless virus is making
us make each other sick.
Hold the hubris.

After we corral this epidemic
(said the American), we need
a new treaty in which all
countries agree not to make
each other sick if they can
help it. They can help it.

I am convinced (and I
daresay so are you) that
in spite of recent setbacks
we're headed for a healthier
phase of so-called civilization.


hans ostrom 2020

In Pursuit of Happiness

Headquarters, be advised,
we are in pursuit of happiness.
Officer is down
on his knees, praying
for redemption. Alleged
miscreant has been advised
of his lights,
and is rising in a red sky.
Moses and Christ,
also Buddha and Allah,
we ask:
what has happened
to our species,
which achieves, achieves,
but that is all?
Headquarters, please
copy our call.
We are over. We are out.



hans ostrom 2013

Rained So Hard

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Rained So Hard
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It rained so hard the roof started barking
and woke me up to a satisfactory feeling.
I got up and looked outside, saw how much
and fast water'd fallen in that prehistoric
way, where clouds bunch up, get weighty
gray with devaporated wet, set themselves
just so, separate water into individual
pearls, let go, and give them graciously
to gravitational pull. Hey, I'd have to check
with theologians and meteorologists, but
there might be molecules of perspiration
from Buddha, Moses, Jesus, the Prophet, and
Confucius, or from just plain folk, in a drop
that hits your roof or hand, and the thought
of that's satisfactory, too--is what I was
thinking in my groggy condition when
I heard that hard rendition of rain working
angles overhead. Satisfied, I went back to bed.
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Copyright 2009 Hans Ostrom