Friday, May 18, 2012

Two Travelers Meet Inside a Phrase-Book

“My name is Carmen,” she said.
     “The Post Office is over there,” he replied.
“Thank you!  It is one o’clock.”
      “Goodbye! How are you?”
“Do you speak English?”
     “The stranger is weeping.”
“My factory is on fire. No thank you.”
     “Excuse me!”
“That dog is frothing at the mouth.”
     “You’re welcome.”
“My passport lies under your thigh.”
     “Where is the hospital?”
“The train leaves in ten minutes.”
     “Please put this on.”
“Will the coup d’etat last all week?”
     “Yes, the museum is my cousin.”

—Hans Ostrom, 2012

Tuesday, May 15, 2012

"The Broken Oar," by Henry Wadsworth Longellow

Concerning Angst

I think of angst as a soft metal.
You try to worry it into something
decorative and useful--
ring, cup--and it resists by being
too malleable. Its color mixes
gray and brown.

Some company delivers a load
of angst to you. You swear
you didn't order it. It gets
dumped anyway. Your mind

writhes inside itself like a snake
inside an egg. "Oh, God," you say,
not even meaning to pray. Oh,
that is angst for you.

Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom