Tuesday, April 29, 2014

"Look Younger With Natural Ingredients," by Hans Ostrom

Look younger
with natural ingredients. Look
natural with younger
ingredients. Eliminate

bags and wrinkles. Bag
those wrinkles in
wrinkled bags. Yeah,
you're going to look

younger, according
to yourself. To others,
you'll look the age
you are; still.

People you're
attracted to won't
be attracted to you:
nothing new.

But you'll feel younger.
Briefly. Maybe. Give it a try!
Four easy payments. Shipping
and handling not included.

hans ostrom 2014

"Above the Dock," by T.E. Hulme

"The Arrow and the Song," by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Monday, April 28, 2014

"The Anguish," by Edna St. Vincent Millay

"Now That Phones Are With Them," by Hans Ostrom

 ("Is this a good time to call?" --Old Saying)


Now that phones are with them,
everywhere and always,
it is always
and never a good time to call. Life,
a series of interruptions,
has become a shattered series

of interrupted, re-continued,
dis-directed ruptures. Like
a batty princess to a frog,
people speak loudly at something
in their palms.  Confused
courtiers look on.

One hand's fingers
tap like spiders' legs
on plasti-glass surfaces.
Apps become vats
into which to pour
attention. Heads bent,

faces slack, eyes distracted:
people's minds leave their
bodies to go to that other space,
that cloud which is forever
and presently calling.


--hans ostrom 2014

Monday, April 21, 2014

"Pecking Disorder," by Hans Ostrom

The smallest chicken listened
again to the rooster, spikes
on his ankles, red gristle
below the throat. Again

the rooster seemed to be
throating things like
I'm a dictator, I'm boss,
a movie star am I, a
celebrity, a CEO, a pastor
of a mega-church, a
full professor, a senior
partner, a Wall Street
broker, a stand-up joker!

The rooster's crew then
came over to pick at
the smallest chicken,
who took it, and who

after they finished,
amused itself by picking
at the chicken-wire,

until, one night, a
hole appeared and a coyote
entered.  In the morning,
the smallest and only
remaining chicken
picked its steps through
what bones were left
and feathers and blood,
gristle and spikes and
beaks. It walked through

the hole, proclaiming nothing,
and was picked up by
the soft hands of a god
from that place the smallest
chicken had always thought
to be a bigger chicken-house. 

hans ostrom copyright 2014

Friday, April 18, 2014

"Canal Dream," by Hans Ostrom

Oh, lovely nightmare
of the canal and futile,
panicked paddling, I do
love to wake from you
with you. A film

of absurd residue
coats my grogged
consciousness. You
depart like a cool
lover. I get up and

get into a day,
which joins other
days I haven't understood.
Dearest canal-nightmare,

you're so easy
by contrast to these
lived days. I enjoy
working with you.


hans ostrom 2014