Showing posts with label time. Show all posts
Showing posts with label time. Show all posts

Monday, November 7, 2016

The Schedule of Time and Space

Did space and time arrive at the same
time? Maybe time arrived on time
and space was running late. Or

Space could have been hanging around
waiting for the concept start to start.
And both time and space reported
for duty before the Big Bang, right?

It's all rather enormous and confusing.
I suppose it doesn't matter now, now
that matter is, and is space taking time
to rearrange itself constantly. Anyway,

it can't be any accident that Einstein,
whose schedule included lots of work
with time and space, developed
a comic affect.


hans ostrom 2016

Wednesday, August 31, 2016

Collecting Time

I keep weeks in closets,
months in a rented garage.

I've misplaced a crucial week
from June 1979.  I can't count
the number of other weeks
I've never gotten my hands on.

Somehow I ended up
with someone's else's
January 1826.  It may well
be my favorite piece.

I had a chance to bid
on a fortnight from 1902,
but three days were missing.

People ask me, they say
why do you collect different
units of time? I wish I had
a good answer. Some day

I'll do something with all
these weeks and months.
In the meantime,
I need to find more space
for all this time.


hans ostrom 2016

Monday, June 27, 2016

Four Questions About the Future

How sophisticated does any
creature's mind have to be
to conceive of Future? Was
there an evolutionary ad-
vantage to imagining Future
and oneself in it? When
they were hiding from God
in the brush after complications
arose, how did Eve and Adam
discuss Future? What are you
going to do tomorrow?


hans ostrom 2016

Thursday, May 14, 2015

Nothing But Time

Moments don't arrive.
For they've always been there,
inside the universe.
The tiniest percentage of them
are invisible arenas
available to our lives,
which pass in. And out.
All other moments lie beyond us.
There is nothing but time.


hans ostrom 2015

Thursday, December 26, 2013

These Things Called Years

These artificial things called "years":
how annoying. They're perceptual engines
that drive us through our lives, keep us
rushed and harried, depressed and habituated.

It all starts again on "January First,"
which we're urged to celebrate. On the
Second, we must report to work on time
or get fired, and we must start

counting the god-damned shopping-days left
til the Apocalyptic Sale. (Everything must go.)


hans ostrom 2013

Tuesday, March 12, 2013

I'm Guessing All

I'm guessing all
we can know for sure
is that when the
time comes, all
will be different
from what we had
expected, predicted.
Yes, it will be
different from
what we had imagined
when we get there,
when we get to the time,
when time comes
to get us.



Hans Ostrom 2013

Monday, November 26, 2012

Of Time and the Poets

While Since was settling its accounts
with time, Then subsequented itself
right on down the line. And Because
pretended to be more influential
than it was, as Correlation made
real differences and, well, caused
a bit of buzz. Later, when Eventually,
Never, Seldom, and Once raided the place,

narrative lost face, storytellers
interrupted each other, and poets
withdrew to a corner where
not-that-much-happens, and
where plots are as tedious as
blueprints and Immediately
shouts, "Can I get an Amen?"

Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom

Friday, November 9, 2012

Refuse to Race

Whatever happened to what happened?
I knew Chronos was quick, but now it seems
to have vroomed some more velocity.

Even the young with hard thighs, smart
lies, brassy brains, and big chests
seem prematurely nostalgic.

If you're always trying to catch up,
for God's sake and yours, stop.
Settle down in being

behind and let the future go
fuck itself--because it's going to
anyway.  This thing's a race

only if you agree to run.


Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom

Sunday, September 30, 2012

Time Is Money, Which

Time is money, which is
speech, which is free,
except when it's policed,
or when it's bought
by corporations, which
are people, who are "human
resources," which brings
to mind property: a pile
of coal to be shoveled
into time, which is
a kind of abyss on wheels.


Hans Ostrom, 2012