Coinage
Love and fear
Two sides
Some would have it
Of the same
And if the toss should land it on
The edge,
Maybe it’s indecision
Or we get to choose the motivation
For our actions
What is the substance
Of the coin? I think it might be
Will
Something not for tossing
But for extracting from a pocket
When it’s time
Not for throwing
But for touching texture
Choosing what to live
Each time
Until instinct
Make imagination
And will
Habit
C L Couch
Image by Markus Lindner from Pixabay
Nothing but Blue Skies
A lesson from The Lathe of Heaven
Once we lose the blue in sky
We do not get it back
No matter how we rework the world
My guess is
We get it gray
Not a fashion gray or gray painted for
Attractive shutters
But gray the color of pollution
(have it plain)
How our factories and cities make it
So we could find it now
The sullen gray
Somewhere a quotidian gray
Increasing
C L Couch
The Lathe of Heaven, a novel by Ursula K. Le Guin
Photo by Joel & Jasmin Førestbird on Unsplash
Ice Age
Nothing moving
All is frozen
There might be life in there
We won’t know until we
Excavate
I guess I’ve known people like this
I hope I don’t become one
Inside, that would be terrifying
(no fun for a claustrophobe)
I can do much with a illusion
Light, space, and motion
Eventually
It would all come through
What I’ve pretending
While the borders would come closer
And I’d need
More medication or something
Pray, let’s not be frozen
Keep it supple, keep it moving
Use whatever means
Short of murder
To chip through, if that’s all
There is to reach
The inner core
Not for samples but
(this is not clinician-speaking)
But for release
Of something real
Life through to the surface
And the light of day
Time and space to beckon
Once again
The living can respond
Then take back
And then move forward
In thawed time
C L Couch
An artist’s impression of ice age Earth at glacial maximum.
Ittiz – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=9237442
And Now a Word
And now for something spiritual
I wrote about the rain
And something about poets’ politics
But what about ethereal
Ephemeral
The gossamer wings that haunt
My nether vision because I want
To see them now
I want to meet my guardian
And any other sponsors
I want to have Jesus or any of his
Colleagues to visit me
I can make some coffee
And serve toast
I want the cross to mean something to me
Or any other totem
Should I have it wrong
Not an item blank against the wall
I bought on sale somewhere
I want it to be over
I want it to begin
If only it were only about me
Because what I want is solid
No more of a story without ending
One chapter more, one chapter more
Bring on Armageddon but
Only if it’s civil
We know it’s only been a metaphor
All along
I’ll call up a gentle apocalypse, thank you
Deliver it on time
Draw up ranks on either side
There are those who will never believe
Too bad
Really
I’ll conjure up new places
And activities for the faithful
What, there’s more to do in heaven?
I don’t think so
And so apostacy is earned
For simply being stupid
For calling on God
When God’s not ready
When official victory
With concomitant defeats
Must be held off now
Until a better ruler says so
She’ll have the better prophet with her
Who will know what’s what
And how to say it, really
C L Couch
Photo by Alex Blăjan on Unsplash
Homey Epiphany
I never really had anything
I mean, who does
But really, one must have something
To offer someone else
A life that can go day by day
An investment building toward
What have you
A life together, home
I’ve heard it said
Maybe some earthly satisfaction
A way to say, some happened here
And it is good
Not an altar, not a sign of worship
Simply devotion to the daily
To the chores, to the grind
Toward conversation and the smallest
Of accomplishments
A life together, home
Amid the wilds of the planet’s
Depredations and
The word inside the mind that
All too easily says no
Here is a yes
A vote for community
Mortal sanctity
Moral sanctity
But mostly love
C L Couch
Image by monicore from Pixabay
Reach
I’ve been drafting
I’ll try one more time to get it right
It’s not that I’m miffed
Far from it
(and how much would that matter)
I simply want to pierce a little
Just a little
A slice of shard
Of the dark glass
I don’t have a method, really
An art or a science
Theory of a skill
But I have a desire
Not to prove a staff can be a snake
A stone turned into bread
Angels dancing on a pin
(it’s not merely an exercise)
It’s not merely an exercise
I want enough
To tell another
That faith might be unseen
Unheard, untouched, and so on
But that it’s evidence enough
Understood, felt, guessed-at
So that we might
Talk about it
Or simply live
In having it
But here’s a thing:
The process is at best
A matter of unseeing
Untouching, untasting
That if, really, our senses
Could be quieted enough
(just some—I’m not recommending
deprivation tanks)
We might know
Through the intimacy of knowing
That our senses have
An ally
That we have an ally
It might be an angel or
A second guess
It might be real enough
For jazz or maybe
A hit toward the backfield wall
It isn’t only us
Not one by one
There’s something to cooperate
In us
That can reach out
And understand the other
Not so alien
I evangelize, excuse me
Take me or leave me
And I’ll understand
(either way)
You are beyond me
Yet there is something
Here
Call is a bond or simply
The pleasure of acquaintance
But if there is ineffability
To touch
(without hands)
Then there might be something
More
That’s all I’m saying
Now, I’ll listen
C L Couch
Image by Vytalis Arnoldus from Pixabay
Early Morning Half-Light
I had a dream and in it
A love and I
With a friend were talking about
Seasons
I was asked if I liked the snow
At the time we were surrounded
By it
Nonetheless, I said I liked snow
Fine
And my dear one said so, too
Clearly, our friend at the time
Only wanted to hear
About warmth
So I waxed
(maybe that’s a mansplain)
I like four quarters to the year
With time for everything
I’m sure I had that when a child
In Pittsburgh
Though it’s not like that
Now
Global warning having moved
The even year up north
Somewhere in New York
I looked at the one and thought,
Maybe we’ll go there
And then dreams do what they do
C L Couch
“Vier Jahreszeiten” (Bernd Altenstein) am Holler See in Bremen
JeKr – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=14692213
Fourth Parable
Imagination,
Willy Wonka
Some songs are extra-beautiful
Depending on who’s singing
Today The Star-Spangled Banner
Always sung in martial fashion
So it seems
I don’t suppose there’s another way
But maybe remember that
The fort and city were outgunned
It wasn’t really victory
But endurance and survival
The flag was flying in the morning
(big flag, if you haven’t seen)
The nation got another day
Sometimes, I guess,
It’s all we need
C L Couch
Jay Bala, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=670634
Rescue Me
Once, I was in trouble
It was fixed, I don’t know how
Someone appeared
And kept the fall from hurting worse
Somehow in fact
Abbreviated all the crisis
Pulled my substance
Soul-enfleshed
Back from the next edge, so
That I might go home
One more time that day
And with my spirit
Lean into tomorrow
I don’t think the saints are gone
Or angels, either
Like the elves from Middle-Earth
We won’t need
White shores
While we are defended, now
C L Couch
Georgia National Guard from United States – Air Rescue, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=70915161
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