They Teach Us to Adapt to Them

Crows, those shadow-shouters,

seem to live in towns amongst thick trees.
Out of their twig-walled cottages,
here they come, gliding, flapping,
bouncing, yelling. They're quiet

during almost all their hours,
but their noise makes you forget
that--like a ratchet-voiced hermit
who bickers with imaginary
invaders, scaring hikers. Crows

maneuver us into adapting to them.
So many creatures do. Given
the billions of us, they all have to.

hans ostrom 2023

Monachopsis

You feel you've had
to try to fit
yourself into groups
and systems
like a hand-made part
in mass-produced machinery.

You know other people
must feel this too,
except there seems to be
less friction for
most of them, more
gliding function.

You play at envying
them to pretend
to chastise yourself.

You always think
you can be better
at joining. Yeah,
you think that.

Indeed you've archived
the many instances
of your desire to fit in,
and using "indeed" in
sentences is one of them.

You assemble conscise
internal reports
that tell of irascibility
and insufficiently
feigned adherence
to the contours of authority.

That is, times when
you were a pain in the ass,
when you wouldn't
knuckle under but
could have easily.
Should have? You
ask that now!

Down there in
dark, dank storage,
you feel judged
even by the rude
shelves and weary
boxes of your making.

Don't panic. Go upstairs
where the others are.
Mind your manners
and your mannerisms.

Chat and listen. Note
the desire to be somewhere
else but do not
act on it. The gathering
will dissolve soon
enough/not soon enough:
what's the difference?

The difference is you.



hans ostrom 2017