Thursday, September 16, 2010
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Do We Know?
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Do We Know?
Do we know?
Sure we do.
Then we go
and change our
minds--meaning
our minds refuse
to know what
they once knew,
or pretended to.
Copyright 2010 Hans Ostrom
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Do We Know?
Do we know?
Sure we do.
Then we go
and change our
minds--meaning
our minds refuse
to know what
they once knew,
or pretended to.
Copyright 2010 Hans Ostrom
A Classic
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A Classic
I was sitting in a dentist's chair
today, thinking that until everybody
on the planet can get their teeth
cleaned and fixed routinely--
everybody--then civilization's a
failure. Sure, fine, build bombs,
preach holy words, teach Plato,
paint canvases, create symphonies,
pour money into The Endowment, and
write long novels--snore, snore, snore.
All of this and more
doesn't square accounts, and,
goddamnit, you know it. Fix
everybody's teeth, after you
have fed and sheltered them.
These things are the classics
of civilization, to be shared by,
to accessible to, all.
Copyright 2010 Hans Ostrom
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A Classic
I was sitting in a dentist's chair
today, thinking that until everybody
on the planet can get their teeth
cleaned and fixed routinely--
everybody--then civilization's a
failure. Sure, fine, build bombs,
preach holy words, teach Plato,
paint canvases, create symphonies,
pour money into The Endowment, and
write long novels--snore, snore, snore.
All of this and more
doesn't square accounts, and,
goddamnit, you know it. Fix
everybody's teeth, after you
have fed and sheltered them.
These things are the classics
of civilization, to be shared by,
to accessible to, all.
Copyright 2010 Hans Ostrom
As If
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As If
As if the buzzing, built-up hive
called the world were a fabricated
facade someone could unfasten and lift
to expose operational guts (the real
engineering), dreams sometimes seem
so right that in the midst of them,
you think, "Yes, it's a dream, and
I'm sleeping, but this is how things
are as they are," and the dream, a
low-budget movie of the highest
quality, has just shown you a thing
or two about how to interpret
a thing or two, but the dream itself
requires no interpretation, any more
than a sharpening stone needs sharpening.
Copyright 2010 Hans Ostrom
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As If
As if the buzzing, built-up hive
called the world were a fabricated
facade someone could unfasten and lift
to expose operational guts (the real
engineering), dreams sometimes seem
so right that in the midst of them,
you think, "Yes, it's a dream, and
I'm sleeping, but this is how things
are as they are," and the dream, a
low-budget movie of the highest
quality, has just shown you a thing
or two about how to interpret
a thing or two, but the dream itself
requires no interpretation, any more
than a sharpening stone needs sharpening.
Copyright 2010 Hans Ostrom
Gray Weaver
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Gray Weaver
The gray weaver dated
the grim reaper for a while.
She liked the fabric
of his hooded cloak,
instructed him not
to bring the scythe
with him when they dined
out. The reaper admitted,
"All of this, this life-activity,
bores me. I love death." She
wove him a pale gray cloak. It
softened his image. He looked like
a cloud that held a harvest tool,
nothing to worry about--honest!
But he said he couldn't accept
the gift. They stopped seeing
one another. That was many
a reaping, many a gray rug ago.
Copyright 2010 Hans Ostrom
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Gray Weaver
The gray weaver dated
the grim reaper for a while.
She liked the fabric
of his hooded cloak,
instructed him not
to bring the scythe
with him when they dined
out. The reaper admitted,
"All of this, this life-activity,
bores me. I love death." She
wove him a pale gray cloak. It
softened his image. He looked like
a cloud that held a harvest tool,
nothing to worry about--honest!
But he said he couldn't accept
the gift. They stopped seeing
one another. That was many
a reaping, many a gray rug ago.
Copyright 2010 Hans Ostrom
I'm Glad I Never
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I'm Glad I Never . . .
...Built missiles.
Ate whale meat.
Purchased a boat of any kind.
Went to law school (LSAT score: 666).
Shot myself with a nail-gun.
Killed a bear.
Played polo.
Became a dictator.
Climbed Mt. Everest.
Believed Plato.
Joined the Mob.
Skated naked.
Mined coal.
Dodged the draft.
Got drafted (draft number: 007, not kidding).
Mined coal.
Owned a coal mine.
Drank anti-freeze.
Started a riot.
Called anyone the N-word.
Joined the Navy.
Believed Reagan.
Lied about where I was from.
Shot heroin.
Became a pornographer.
Caved in.
Went to Idaho that one time.
Went to Berkeley that one time.
Copyright 2010
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I'm Glad I Never . . .
...Built missiles.
Ate whale meat.
Purchased a boat of any kind.
Went to law school (LSAT score: 666).
Shot myself with a nail-gun.
Killed a bear.
Played polo.
Became a dictator.
Climbed Mt. Everest.
Believed Plato.
Joined the Mob.
Skated naked.
Mined coal.
Dodged the draft.
Got drafted (draft number: 007, not kidding).
Mined coal.
Owned a coal mine.
Drank anti-freeze.
Started a riot.
Called anyone the N-word.
Joined the Navy.
Believed Reagan.
Lied about where I was from.
Shot heroin.
Became a pornographer.
Caved in.
Went to Idaho that one time.
Went to Berkeley that one time.
Copyright 2010
Places We've Gone
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Places We've Gone After We've Made Love
Nowhere.
Stockholm.
The movies.
Ephesus.
A restaurant.
A cafe.
A bar.
The city dump.
A supermarket.
Outside.
To sleep.
Inside.
The Post Office.
Florence.
Sacramento.
A beach.
A kitchen.
Mobile.
A bathroom.
A museum.
A roof.
A swimming pool.
An ocean.
Copyright 2010 Hans Ostrom
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Places We've Gone After We've Made Love
Nowhere.
Stockholm.
The movies.
Ephesus.
A restaurant.
A cafe.
A bar.
The city dump.
A supermarket.
Outside.
To sleep.
Inside.
The Post Office.
Florence.
Sacramento.
A beach.
A kitchen.
Mobile.
A bathroom.
A museum.
A roof.
A swimming pool.
An ocean.
Copyright 2010 Hans Ostrom
Lombardy Poplar
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Lombardy Poplar
In a light breeze, the ease
with which branchings and leaves
of a single Lombardy poplar move,
each in a different direction
and way, and how the tree becomes
an infinitely syncopated whole that
later and clumsily we'll call tremble,
naturally defy math and digital
imitation because they won't hold still
for a binary moment or repeat itself,
so poplar fascinates beyond words but also
coaxes words, and there it is, the poplar,
the one poplar, the one, and there it goes,
and now a crow caws. Twice.
Copyright 2010 Hans Ostrom
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Lombardy Poplar
In a light breeze, the ease
with which branchings and leaves
of a single Lombardy poplar move,
each in a different direction
and way, and how the tree becomes
an infinitely syncopated whole that
later and clumsily we'll call tremble,
naturally defy math and digital
imitation because they won't hold still
for a binary moment or repeat itself,
so poplar fascinates beyond words but also
coaxes words, and there it is, the poplar,
the one poplar, the one, and there it goes,
and now a crow caws. Twice.
Copyright 2010 Hans Ostrom
So Much For Experience
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So Much For Experience
Is experience too expensive?
In those days, I knew so little,
and now I know even less.
I feel like a door-to-door
salesman who sells doors,
knocking on locked examples
of what I try to sell.
Life's an elaborate experiment
with no hypothesis and with a
volatile concoction of methods.
Once you get the results, you
move on to Heaven, I gather,
and make your report--angels
roaring with laughter:
apparently this stuff never
gets old. . . .
I passed two women on the street.
The one smoking a cigarette was
saying to the other, "Well, if
it's one thing I've learned from
experience, it's . . .". I'd
walked too far past to hear the rest.
Copyright 2010 Hans Ostrom
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So Much For Experience
Is experience too expensive?
In those days, I knew so little,
and now I know even less.
I feel like a door-to-door
salesman who sells doors,
knocking on locked examples
of what I try to sell.
Life's an elaborate experiment
with no hypothesis and with a
volatile concoction of methods.
Once you get the results, you
move on to Heaven, I gather,
and make your report--angels
roaring with laughter:
apparently this stuff never
gets old. . . .
I passed two women on the street.
The one smoking a cigarette was
saying to the other, "Well, if
it's one thing I've learned from
experience, it's . . .". I'd
walked too far past to hear the rest.
Copyright 2010 Hans Ostrom
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Saturday, September 11, 2010
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