She Wanted to Be Wrong

Cassandra wanted to be wrong.

Her prescience proved to heavy.

She wanted experts, logicians,

or insiders to relieve her of her

knowledge. But, no. When they

ignored, dismissed, mocked, and--

worst of all--reassured her, they

looked like cheerful rabbits

about to be clubbed. Cassandra

wanted the world to right itself

to prove her wrong. She knew

it would remain a hell of war

and hatred. She'd seen the

time when swords hacked

at limbs and arrows buried

themselves in flesh and

people howled at flames

and smoke. Blind, she saw

herself propped against

a wall, hearing and knowing. 

hans ostrom 2020

"A Nereid," by Alexander Pushkin

30-second video/reading of a poem by Pushkin about the mythological Nereid, a goddess of the sea.

Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7dv73eoxmdo

Of Morpheus

Last night Morpheus, dream
distributor, sent a severed head
to my sleep. I couldn't decide
what to do with the head. I carried
it around, stored it, hid it, hid from it.
This took several seconds or a year.

People in the dream, extras,
noticed the head and discussed me
when I was absent, and I heard
everything they said, which is how
waking life should work. They
began to think less and less of me,
and I started to hate myself
more and more. I never asked
who the head belonged to. I

took it with me underground,
cool moist rooms of concrete
and steel. Strange chambers.
I could not just finish the dream
and bury the head. Chest full
of panic. Eyelids fluttering
outside the dream like butterflies

The head rotted on my lap.
I sat and rocked myself awake.
Awake, I told Morpheus to fuck off.


hans ostrom 2019

The Matter with Matter

It rolls on. It
rolls over itself as it
rolls through itself.

How could our relationship
to it--matter--be anything
but terrifying?

Terror may be
the original spark
of myth, ideology,

religion: To explain
elaborately so
as to defend ourselves.

Christ, you think
(if you think Christ),
I'm already dead. 


hans ostrom 2018

Medusa's Morning

One morning Medusa put her hair up all
in snakes. What do you think? she asked
her lover. Looks great! he said. You didn't
even look! she said. I did so, said he,
and it looks terrific. At the same time,

your hair looks hungry, and what people
forget is that snakes stink.  He got out
of bed and asked Medusa what she thought
of the red hawk he'd attached to his groin.

She said, You're scaring my hair.

hans ostrom 2016