Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
The Homosexual Agenda and Weather
The Homosexual Agenda and Weather
"Defend and Proclaim the Faith Ministries' Founder and Pastor John McTernan has blamed Hurricane Sandy on homosexuals and President Obama, reports Gay Star News [October 29, 2012]"
I see where a pastor opined
that a big tropical storm
arose because of the homosexual
agenda, which I gather
goes as follows:
1. Call to Order
2. Approve minutes from the previous homosexual meeting.
3. Old Business: continuing to be who we are.
4. New Business: affecting the weather.
5. Adjournment.
Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom
"Defend and Proclaim the Faith Ministries' Founder and Pastor John McTernan has blamed Hurricane Sandy on homosexuals and President Obama, reports Gay Star News [October 29, 2012]"
I see where a pastor opined
that a big tropical storm
arose because of the homosexual
agenda, which I gather
goes as follows:
1. Call to Order
2. Approve minutes from the previous homosexual meeting.
3. Old Business: continuing to be who we are.
4. New Business: affecting the weather.
5. Adjournment.
Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom
Monday, October 29, 2012
Bless Meaninglessness
God bless meaningless noise people
make, such as, "I knew I shouldn't have
trusted February" or "the piece that I'm
not seeing is some kind of evaluative
framework" or "How can people not
get that?" The froth of not-meaning's
whipped up into magnificent meringue
sculptures. I walk among them all day--
the fantastic shapes! I say little in response
Maybe "interesting" or "wow,
really?" or a well placed, "Good grief,
let's hope it turns out all right."
I can pretend to understand just
enough to escape scrutiny. Then
I must come home and rest, maybe
read a detective novel, in which
the world represented coheres
and meaning means. Out there
online, at work, and in the public
sphere, people say and write a
great many things which neither
swing nor mean a thing. God bless
them and that noise.
Hans Ostrom, 2012
make, such as, "I knew I shouldn't have
trusted February" or "the piece that I'm
not seeing is some kind of evaluative
framework" or "How can people not
get that?" The froth of not-meaning's
whipped up into magnificent meringue
sculptures. I walk among them all day--
the fantastic shapes! I say little in response
Maybe "interesting" or "wow,
really?" or a well placed, "Good grief,
let's hope it turns out all right."
I can pretend to understand just
enough to escape scrutiny. Then
I must come home and rest, maybe
read a detective novel, in which
the world represented coheres
and meaning means. Out there
online, at work, and in the public
sphere, people say and write a
great many things which neither
swing nor mean a thing. God bless
them and that noise.
Hans Ostrom, 2012
Friday, October 26, 2012
Thursday, October 25, 2012
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
Overheard at a Job-Site: Enough to Do
Look, you
little sonofabitch,
you don't
need to be making
work for me.
I got plenty
to do, including
nothing.
So don't go
getting big
ideas. Got it?
Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom
little sonofabitch,
you don't
need to be making
work for me.
I got plenty
to do, including
nothing.
So don't go
getting big
ideas. Got it?
Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom
Monday, October 22, 2012
Unlicensed Poetry
He operated poetry without a license
for decades. To be fair, he had tried
a few times to get one. But he couldn't
ever seem to complete all the steps required.
Eventually the authorities caught up with
him. They made him pledge allegiance
to a School of Poetry and declare whether
he was underground, on top of the ground,
or just lying there covered in leaves. He
chose the latter. He rewrote the pledge
to make it sound better.
He was also required to join poetry-groups,
councils, and commissions and to post
his opinions about poetry-arguments
online. They wanted to wear him down,
the regulators. Soon enough they lost
sight of him. He slipped away to write
some poems again.
To write some poems. An infinitive phrase,
an unregulated phase in which a body may
live indefinitely. Once again he was free
to associate with garter snakes, statistical
geniuses, cats, drunks, students, plumbers,
spiders, foxed anthologies, and the groaning
clutter of his own mind.
Copyright Hans Ostrom 2012
for decades. To be fair, he had tried
a few times to get one. But he couldn't
ever seem to complete all the steps required.
Eventually the authorities caught up with
him. They made him pledge allegiance
to a School of Poetry and declare whether
he was underground, on top of the ground,
or just lying there covered in leaves. He
chose the latter. He rewrote the pledge
to make it sound better.
He was also required to join poetry-groups,
councils, and commissions and to post
his opinions about poetry-arguments
online. They wanted to wear him down,
the regulators. Soon enough they lost
sight of him. He slipped away to write
some poems again.
To write some poems. An infinitive phrase,
an unregulated phase in which a body may
live indefinitely. Once again he was free
to associate with garter snakes, statistical
geniuses, cats, drunks, students, plumbers,
spiders, foxed anthologies, and the groaning
clutter of his own mind.
Copyright Hans Ostrom 2012
Saturday, October 20, 2012
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