Thursday, July 27, 2023

Man In Store Standing In Front of Mops

Lots of mops for sale, I see.
Some end in rectangular sponges
(harvested from rectangular seas?).

Some end in wigs of rope, some
in plastic absences to be filled by
the legendary "sold separately."

If I stand by these mops too long,
I'll worry someone. But where would
I go? Not to the meat department,

certainly not to the carnival
of cereal boxes full of sugar.
Perhaps to red fruits and green

vegetables? For now I'll stand
and stare, thinking of my grimy
floor, and I will try "acting normal"--

a strange state of being.


hans ostrom

Move

Move through dew
on grass like an eel
muscling itself between
canals. Move

into light and shadow,
the dappled landscape
of your life. Ride
like a child

the silly contraptions
of commerce--escalator,
elevator, metro, & sad,
sagging bus. Keep

going, knowing
you're probably not
going to get anywhere
special fast, except Here.


hans ostrom 2023

Ineffectual Hell

If Hell exists, Hitler
must be there, and Stalin,
and slave owners....

So what? Hell can't undo
evil's horrors, unkill
the slaughtered, comfort
those battered to death
by racism and hatred of women.

The most hellish thing
about Hell seems to be
how useless it is.

hans ostrom 2023

Sunday, July 16, 2023

For the Number 12

No one liked eleven,
an ignored child. But you,
twelve, they doted on.
You wore the 2-more-than-10
like a crown. You came

to denote half a day, a
year, a box of moons, a
site for mid-day meals,
a gang of star-gods.

The military treated
you strangely--turning you into
"straight up"--or zero,
when time begins again.

You became midnight's lover,
noon's boss, the clock
in a church or a brothel.

You were born even grander
than 10 and live between it
and the squad of teens,
alone except for your odd
sibling, eleven, who loves
you no matter what
and see you as the end
of childhood.


hans ostrom 2023