Cookbook Unrest Poem by Hans Ostrom

I hear the cookbooks in the kitchen-
garrulous relics from pre-digital times.

They flop around on the floor. They
gossip about how and what I cook.

'Seriously, ' one of them says, 'if he's
going to improvise all the time,

why consult us, why insult us? '
I made their pages greasy.

The chefs who authored them: bah!
No one should be famous for cooking.

A cat has heard the books now.
He becomes a lynx and bounds

off into the kitchen.It's quiet
in there all of a sudden.That's right:

close yourselves, recipe barns.
Digest your dissatisfaction.



hans ostrom 2017