After Frogs Finally

After frogs finally
and all at once
(as if by contract or with
music charts) stop their
maniacal, charming belch-fest,
night air's suddenly
full of unused echoes,

which will stay for next
night's sprung chorus.

At this time, there will be
no statement regarding
hominids listening to frogs
while both have occupied
Time's gorges. Instead

we suggest you wonder
how it feels and sounds
to be a wet frog croaking
among other croaking wet frogs,
goodnight, goodnight, goodnight!
Do sense yourself a part of that fest. 


hans ostrom 2018

Eyes on the Road

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Eyes on the Road

I don't like to keep my eyes on the road.
I like to keep them in my head.

I imagine a long highway covered with eyeballs,
hear the sound of car-tires striking them,

see what's left--miles of slime on asphalt.

Motorists  pull over. They and their passengers
run into woods, retch and moan near ponds,

where frogs lift their eyes out of water, stare.

Hey, now: something amphibian in human eyes,
which blinking keeps wet and dry land
keeps focused. 

Copyright 2011 Hans Ostrom