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I talk you talk we'll talk

Month

May 2020

Coronavirus Is Republican

Coronavirus Is Republican

(or Democrat)

 

Is the virus partisan?

Does it respect one group

Over another?

If you get to be

Surrounded by doctors

Then maybe you’re okay,

Though even then

 

With fifties Martian-like antennae

‘Round a bulbous planet,

I don’t think the virus

Cares except to replicate

Make more of itself

Trying to take out whatever

Might be in the way

Until it meets the stronger thing

Like Nietzsche

 

But it is not a politician

Who should wear a mask

As an example,

Public servant

It is not the people who

Try to do it right

And might still get sick

There is no quid pro quo

The virus doesn’t bargain

Maybe summer heat will help us

As good as any other

Don’t campaign on the virus

You will lose

Like the gambling house,

The virus wins

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Odysseas Chloridis on Unsplash

Thessaloniki, Greece

A visual depiction of the corona virus outbreak and the isolation it has caused throughout the world.

 

The Trail

The Trail

 

Who gets the good?

Who gets the bad?

We do at least in here

We have it for the asking

We ask it of ourselves

We ask providence for help

This much we get

 

One step and then the other

And we’re on our way

Toward a path we’ve chosen

And which, if

Covertly (this is grace

until revealed, sometimes

a surprise)

Will have chosen us

 

The good then selecting

The bad will make a claim as well

Spirits will mediate

Depending on tradition and

Our current habits

Stay the path being generally

Good advice

Ready to move,

Even to change course

Should that become

Necessary

(tricks or illusions)

Good will let us alter ways

When needed

Bad should like to keep us in a rut

Neither trail

Path or gap

Being easy

Though we can ask for help, again

That divinity would show us

 

More than allegory

(though allegory, too)

We’re talking choices for

The way

And on the way

It shouldn’t be guesswork

Maybe resorting to a text

Thoughts and insights should help

The kind that only hurt

Or serve single ambition might

Indicate the other

 

Finally, we’ll find elsewhere

That feels like home

Even if home

We never really had

Because it is

Nothing but strangeness and

Foreboding

Should a turn be wrong,

Which will be all right

Because we can turn again

 

C L Couch

 

Photo by Alex Bertha on Unsplash

 

Reveal

Reveal

 

I can see the shadow of a bird

Through the air-conditioner baffling

Maybe it wants to build a nest

It’s happened before

Hopefully, everything will last long enough

To bear eggs and to hatch

It’s all happened before

 

This will add a little tension

To already tense days

But it’s creation,

And I won’t be removing the air-

Conditioner for a while, now

For cleaning or what have you

 

And when I turn it on, the birds will be

Okay with the new noise

That’s worked out all right

As well, before

Oh, and so you know

I won’t be looking further

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Dean Ward on Unsplash

Before chopping down one of the trees in our garden we did an inspection to make sure there were no nests in it. This gorgeous little nest was in one on the lower branches so it looks like the tree is staying.

 

 

Soul Music

Soul Music

 

Start in Africa

Carry through to the Caribbean

To New Orleans

Then travel up to Detroit

And with a kind of partnership

In New York and Nashville,

You have soul

 

The other kind, we know

From long ago

When breath entered earth

To form a person, rising

 

Was there music in the garden?

I think there must have been

A shame that in a lull

Between certain movements,

The serpent talked with Eve

And then Adam

All too easily

Fell, too

Then there must have been a kind

Of silence for a time

In mourning, angels set to guard

Then maybe once emptied of us,

Music returned to Eden,

Which was its nature

 

It we listen, will we hear it,

The music in our souls?

Back in Detroit, maybe

Or in the backyard,

Where a picnic turns to small

And loving concerting

For the family

And for friends

 

It might be gone or hidden

(hiding’s a kind of gone),

But like the soul

The music might be found again

Turn to archaeologists,

Turn inward

We can have it

We can play it all

 

C L Couch

 

 

Last concert of Ray Charles at Salle Wilfrid-Pelletier of the Place des Arts during the Festival International de Jazz de Montréal in 2003. Photo by Victor Diaz Lamich.

Victor Diaz Lamich, CC BY 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=3606167

 

It Burns

It Burns

 

Do I have any more to

Say? There should

Be something every day, though

If I worry, nothing might be

Realized

 

But to empty all would then,

Well, to be empty

 

Inspiration, what is that?

A light, a spark,

An ember from an ancient fire,

Spirit from an epic-writer

 

Does the fire

Burn through all the ages?

Do we have a trust,

A pledge,

To carry heated parts to the next

Fire outside the house, having

Warmed ourselves

Once more?

 

What is there in

The torch that borrows from

The center of the Earth?

If hell is frozen, it is heaven

That burns

Alive without consuming,

Like the bush and then the pillar

Saving Israel

Then lighting up the faces

In the temple priests affirming

All the creeds

In the presence of the holy

 

And in a later age, carried off in battle:

So where is it now?

In pockets of the saints

To keep them warm

Inside a cell

For living

Or for execution

 

And to our time it goes,

The coal for inspiration, then

To the future, though

For now

We’ll keep it here—we

Need the fire to heat up

Our reason and the craft,

All come together

For a season and then quietly,

Still glowing,

To the next

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by M.T ElGassier on Unsplash

Tripoli, Libya

cold winter night

 

Where Are You?

Where Are You?

 

A single bird sings to the rest

I’m here

I’m here

I’m here

Come to me

I’m lonely

And I’m hungry

I’m here

I’m here

I’m here

I have this nest, you see

I’m here

I’m here

I’m here

And I must stay

Until they’re here

And then

We’re here

We’re here

We’re here

 

C L Couch

 

in part inspired by Leaf and Twig, https://leafandtwig.wordpress.com/, and the declaration of what birds sing

I heard a single bird, which was also inspiration

 

 

Photo by Wengang Zhai on Unsplash

 

Turn Around

Turn Around

 

This is sweeter than

I’d thought

(what I’m eating)

The day is still and white

But, look, the branches move

The movie is better

Than remembered

When leaning back,

The pillow touches the right place

From where

It had fallen

A surprise

Many small surprises

In this day

The day itself

A gift

From no one in particular

That is the disguise

Faith in costume

Grace behind a mask

 

It seems

We can’t have it any other way

 

C L Couch

 

 

United Nations COVID-19 Response

(Unsplash)

Physical distancing. Image created by Samuel Rodriguez. Submitted for United Nations Global Call Out to Creatives – help stop the spread of COVID-19.

 

Wilderness for Real

Wilderness for Real

(before the angels or the promised land)

 

So what happens

In the wilderness?

We think more about its passing

Forty days in the wilderness

Forty years wandering

The desert

How were they led

Without any leading?

There was no direction but

Not to find the way

One day in a wilderness

Without means except

What might fall out of the sky

Stone into bread

Water from rocks, that is

And are we to live by miracle

For many days?

 

The holes inside of desert walls

Holes within holes

Drive in a couple pegs

To make a shelf

This life was considered wisdom?

There must have been

The company of food

If not of people bringing it

Water must have gotten there

Somehow,

Meaning wisdom must be patronized

Sponsors for each hermit

If not a dining hall

Is a hermitage allowed community?

Is there companionship

Inside the wilderness?

 

Who would be alone

To hear only the heart

Wait for nerve flashes

To shine behind the eye,

 

This is loneliness enough

The creator hasn’t left

Each one is not a pocket watch

Inside a deist vest

 

There is loneliness in wilderness

Underneath there is companionship

Something we feel

Less than God

But more than ego-censorship

Affords in crowds

Magnets are not good for us

They draw us without thinking

 

When we can get away

Or accept it, anyway

Because it happens

Something in us owns

The time, the chance

To say, this feels like home for now

I’ll stay here while I can

Even as a long-withheld surprise

 

I’ll learn

Employ some craft

Commune

It shouldn’t last forever

Then I get to return

Maybe encounter you

Before returning,

All changed

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Arto Marttinen on Unsplash

 

Following

Following

 

I have to get rid of things

So many books in boxes

Don’t worry, I’ve got some

Hundreds still, around

 

If they should take in mold

And mildew, well, they will

Though I’ve taken to

Dry atmospheres as well

 

Too many than I’ll read

They’ll live in piles, waiting

For the ones who will come

After—eager or indifferent

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

Venice, Italy

 

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