Under a Roof, Wondering

Environmental doom, catastrophic war: these clots
of syllables squat in my mind when my mind

prefers to ponder cold rain coming in from
the Pacific, coming down with uncanny steadiness,

crackling on roofs and windows like spiders
wearing cleats. I order fresher syllables to arrive

carrying different ideas--rivulets, storm, traffic
rush, water (water!) I offer them a hot beverage,

tell them to let their vowels and consonants
rest a while, because I feel like just hanging out

with some words tonight, under a roof, wondering.


hans ostrom 2020

It's Not Like the End of the World is the End of the World or Anything

Just before he went to sleep,
the world ended.  Well, began
to end: it's quite a process, after all
(and After All). He stayed awake
that night, finally slept a couple hours
as the sun rose  The wailing and yelling
coming from other abodes woke him.
He wondered if he was expected at work--
and what was in the cupboard
that might comprise supper?
It was just as he expected: even
when the world ends,
a person must plod on.


hans ostrom 2017

Are We We? Oui

How are you enjoying the Pre-Apocalypse?
Other species through no fault of their
own get clocked by asteroids or Ice Ages.

We're just self-destructive. And we
think we have the right--don't we?--
to blow up everything. Wreck it.

Including the future. Who are we?
Are we we? Is there time. Is there time?


hans ostrom 2016

"Surreal Cat," by Hans Ostrom

Once upon a whatever,
as aluminum homes and nature
flew by where my windows
used to be, what with the tornado
and all,

there was a surreal cat.
Yep, that's what I have to report.

The color of her coat
depended greatly on
the nature of the magazine
one's eyeballs were reading to one.

"I think surrealism is bullshit,"
Margo said. "I think it is life
itself," replied Joe. Neither
one of them existed.

Things fall apart. That's
not necessarily terrible. Things
stay together--not necessarily
good. As to the falcon, the falconer,
and the goddamned gyres, who knows?
Seriously, Yeats can be
a real pain in the ass sometimes.

We at the Surreal Cat Corporation
appreciate your refraining
from talk of apocalypse.

Over, and Not Over

the big election is over
the most recent atrocity is over
the most recent Winter holidays are over
also the latest predicted apocalypse, over
the morning news, over
cup of coffee, over
cats fed, over
work, work--over
not over is
my lifelong
need to do
things for
people &
worry about
keeping
them pleased so
that i may get
some
sense of my
worth. this search
for worth, not over.


Hans Ostrom 2013