Monday, October 30, 2023
Saturday, October 28, 2023
Thursday, October 26, 2023
Tuesday, October 24, 2023
Monday, October 23, 2023
Sunday, October 22, 2023
Friday, October 20, 2023
Tuesday, October 17, 2023
Sunday, October 15, 2023
Bayou Blues
Sulfur yellow sky
seals in obese,humid air.
Just sitting on
our slumped porch,
us, still we sweat creeks.
A sick boat motor
coughs over there
on the bayou canal.
A sedan drives up.
Looks like a Fed car.
Our neighbors scatter
like water drops
on a griddle. We
have to breathe
this air. We have
to breathe this
here hot, wet air.
hans ostrom 2023
Orb Spider In Its Nest
I saw a a dark, spotted
orb-weaver spider
suspended in the center
of its flat, woven net,
presiding over its life.
I leaned in and spoke
softly to it. The spider slowly
raised its two foremost
legs--a casual double-wave.
Like moonlight glowing
on an old eucalyptus tree,
like an unsheltered man
sleeping on a city grate,
the spider and its awareness
cannot affect the future.
They're almost nothing,
just like me. And yet the
spider and the man and
the glowing tree, and just one
night's moonlight should
count as crucial. They exist
& their gestures suggest we
should care.
suspended in the center
of its flat, woven net,
presiding over its life.
I leaned in and spoke
softly to it. The spider slowly
raised its two foremost
legs--a casual double-wave.
Like moonlight glowing
on an old eucalyptus tree,
like an unsheltered man
sleeping on a city grate,
the spider and its awareness
cannot affect the future.
They're almost nothing,
just like me. And yet the
spider and the man and
the glowing tree, and just one
night's moonlight should
count as crucial. They exist
& their gestures suggest we
should care.
hans ostrom 2023
Photo: spotted orb-weaver spider.
Interruptions
You're a minor Beat Movement poet
in 1961, and you get up to leave a barin Berkeley, California, but the bartender
doesn't know who you are, and he yells,
"You forgot to pay!"
No doubt you're not a minor Beat Movement
poet, and it's 2023 or 2122, and you lift
a first spoon of homemade soup
toward your mouth, but someone
raps on your door like a monstrous
woodpecker on a beetle-infested pine.
You're anybody somewhere sometime,
soaring in new love but now brought down
to sickening earth by the buckshot of
betrayal. Or required brain surgery
shunts your rolling-along-all-right life
to a rusty side-track where
you live in a fog of recovery.
Yep, life's a series of interruptions
interrupted by Death. Sometimes
the shock is so great you and your
family have to become refugees,
who huddle and pray on a rubber
boat slammed by cold waves.
hans ostrom 2023
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