Five-Syllable Aria

For him, opera is a world
where people converse
in shrieks, shouts, cries, and
wails. (Too much like his family.)

Even an operatic comedy
sounds like catastrophe to him.

Right away, the first notes,
opera is too much for him.
Instantly it exhausts him.
Defeated, he sleeps until

a sweet whisper in his ear
sings, "It's over. Let's go."
The five-syllable aria
transports his would.


hans ostrom 2018

At the Edge of the Road One Evening

He was quite high and making
up nonsense songs as he stood
in battered sandals on the gravel.
Dusk. In one of the lyrics he

rhymed spaghetti with confetti.
It was a mournful ballad.
Turning from composing and
performing, he asked himself

if there was any discernible
reason for humanity. He was weary
of the standard answers. He
imagined looking at the human-

phenomenon from another side
of the galaxy and thinking,
"What's that for?" in a British
accent. He then heard his name

called and listened to the familiar
voice as if for the first time. Then
it was no longer dusk but night,
what a drag.


hans ostrom 2017

"An Immortality," by Ezra Pound