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July 2020

To the One Who’s Typing Now

To the One Who’s Typing Now

(regarding futures)

 

I mistype a number

And it’s 2029

I mistype again

It’s 3029

Maybe 3129

Let’s make it 3159

So each number’s new

Now let’s consider our world

Should we still have it

Should we be here

 

A thousand years to get it right

Maybe we’ve refined

Profit at last

A personal fruition of one’s

Skills

The happiness of that

Is a profitable life

Each one contributes out of joy

Not that we won’t make mistakes

We will

And I’m not sure where

Ego’s gone

 

We’ll need more materials

Stop wrecking Earth to have them

We might be digging into Mars

And asteroids

Still needing to learn

The cosmos is not for digging

And for slicing up

Maybe other leaseholders

Will have shown by then

To live that

For us

 

Despotism might be a deserved

Anachronism by then

Democracy gain such momentum

That we will have it

And no other way

Maybe there was

A final fight for freedom

Last and only monuments

Only to us

And worth remembering

 

The state of the human soul

Might not have changed at all

We might have evolved so that

Ancillary things such as those

At the ends of fingers

And of toes

Might have grown off

Nature evolving, too

Harder trees and rocks

Like crystal steel

Water that will no longer

Be prodded

Nature’s having learned as well

That living with us

Is inimical

We will be peers

If never really allies

We might have learned that

Nature’s soul deserves

Respecting, too

 

As for God

No need for changing there

Immutability required

Maybe Armageddon,

Maybe no one came to play

Maybe God will have reason

To smile a little

All the time

Weep less for Earth and us

Maybe show up, now and then

Because divine invisibility

Will have lost some

Of its doctrine

With its need

 

Will we be happy,

Feel fulfilled?

Goodness, I don’t know

Once everyone is fed

And money doesn’t mean

Withholding shelter

Banks off our backs

Having failed at climbing on us

To deceive with interest

(not only banks—the corporations

so this way and politics)

Maybe when we understand

That lunacy means not providing

Water safe to drink

And we don’t want to be lunatics

Anymore,

The world will, what do you know,

Be a better place

Commercials and song lyrics

Have it right

We’ll still be dying,

Actuarily

But letting go will be done

In a circle

With fewer things to worry over,

After

 

We’ll be a thousand years ahead

Human nature adapting

One can hope

Yes, I know, everything could go

The other way

The devil be in charge, at last

Though that be madness, too

Over non-corporeality

We might have even learned through games

That the body is important

(learned sadly by the wrecking of it)

That matter is

A crucial count of atoms

That heavenward means substance

Hell has none of

Not even an electron

No covalence there

 

Both abstract and solid mean something

Something wonderful

We’ll have our fears

To face

Maybe at last we’ll face them

Some challenges might be greater

Maybe you wouldn’t

(I don’t know)

But I’d like to see, to hear, to touch

To taste, to smell

To sense the future

Maybe it will be part of the tour

An astral orientation

For what truly happens next

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Jorik Kleen on Unsplash

Rågeleje, Denmark

 

2

Christmas in July

(for the editor of a local newspaper)

 

I think it was largely a retail invention

I think it still is

There was a movement

For a while this year

To display Christmas

Or holiday lights,

But I don’t think it took on

Maybe was subsumed

By a trenchant desire

To be normal,

Which evidently has to be

A retrograde feeling

Too bad, since lights on houses

In July would be cool without,

You know, being cold

At least in these parts

I’d be up for Aussies and

Kiwis joining the movement,

Too

Lights and music

Maybe a sensation or two

We wouldn’t have to call it

Christmas—how much does the

Birth of Christ resonate, anyway?

We could be respecting of

All the good traditions

(there are many)

Frankly, nodding toward

Colors, maybe music

Gift-giving could take a pass

Let’s use what we already

Have

For fun, adding a toy penguin,

Maybe a dinosaur (also

stuffed, not stuffing us)

Or two

Not to make it chaos

But, to borrow from another

Celebration, a cornucopia

Inclusive, somewhat organized

Revelry without the stress

The other days have had

A campaign, then,

For all the senses in community

Unseasonal holidays in July

 

Enjoy, enjoy, enjoy

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Sandra Grünewald on Unsplash

 

12

July

July

(pandemic time)

 

Just is going by so quickly

Soon will be the ides

And yet how can that be?

We’re inside in pandemic time

The days are blurred

The hours should be slow

As if marked

By a Gothic clock

That ticks without relenting

In a ruined house

But here it is, half the month

Is nearly done

Maybe the problem is

Each day is rushing by,

Losing pieces

As an airplane hull in a comic book

Crashing craft before the superhero

Comes,

Lifting up the plane

Restoring those of us inside

To safe living on the ground

 

What we’re used to

Isn’t happening

All the things we’re told need doing

In each hour

So the hour slides

Collecting in a bin, somewhere

Maybe we think the hours

Will be called back into service,

Though really I think we know they’re gone

And with them,

All our former expectations

 

We want time to wait

So we might catch up what has gone

Bring it back into our time

That it might rush again

But we’ve heard the occasional

Voices

Like soft-spoken prophets

Telling us that normal will have to be

Redefined,

And then

It’s all right

We will have it

Back and for the first time

Hello, I must be going (Captain Spaulding)

Time will be back

To fill more as we wish

Though there is a call

In the air

Or on the tables with our alarm clocks

Inviting us to be more woke,

As we’re saying,

For the day

 

A day of work

A day of home

A day of work at home

School out there

Jobs out there

Keeping them inside, too

Inside us

The Earth is a busy place,

Though not so much in nanoseconds

As in seasons

Seasons of life

And letting go of life

 

When we return,

We’ll have the chance to keep some things

Old things and new

Making a fuller way to live

A fuller way to understand

Ourselves, our families, our friends

The world we’ve been given

And still have, for now

 

Intertwining life

With more threads for the loom

More strands in the weaving

Valuing some things

We always said

We’d get around to

Such as lifelong learning

Family really matters

Well, it’s turning into a banner over town

Relax, enjoy the day

Fill it with what you will

Or let it go

But here is a chance

For an awful reason

To repack our lives,

Leaving what’s no longer needed

Along an existential road

Backing into what we’ll call

Another time

That now is past

We’ll walk straighter in the now

(straighter however we go)

With vision, other senses for today

And some toward the future

 

Tomorrow hopefully will grow

And then a little more

But have today

A first day in July,

All the hours in a day and season

Count them slowly, count them fast

Count them not at all

Let time be a blanket

Rest or play or work upon it

Savor

Breathe fully

A gift of air from the sky

And the host above, below

The maker it works for

Who will, as we will,

Keep the time for us in

What happens

And what happens next

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Ian Macharia on Unsplash

Kargi, Kenya

Took this on a trip to Kargi, a remote nomadic settlement in Kenya. It’s been a while since I got to experience a people so constantly happy and full of joy as the people of here.

 

4

Joy Harjo Is Ready for You, Now

Joy Harjo Is Ready for You, Now

 

Next I’d like to meet the Dalai Lama

And Bishop Desmond Tutu

They’re working together these days,

You know

I don’t recall who is the Secretary-General

Of the U.N. just now

I still have U Thant and Boutros Boutros-Ghali

On the brain

But whoever she is

I think it’s a she

I’d be delighted if she’d let me in

For a hello and a salute

I’d like to meet my favorite writers

Everywhere,

If they’d behave

The Poet Laureate, perhaps

If she’d have time

Of course, she wouldn’t

But if we could pirate a few minutes

Then I’d to meet some other laureates

In states and other nations

The Presbyterian church

Made me one for a little while

It was informal, really

Just a bunch of pastors

Who thought it a good idea,

After I gave a reading,

Though if I met the Presbyterians now

I’d have to scold them

And the other Protestants

For what they did to me

By proxy, many others, too

 

So I should say I’d like to meet Jesus

The God of Abraham and Sarah

As well

The God of Muhammad

But these are here

A bodily encounter

Would be fine and fearful

But not necessary

If it were, we’d have them that way

All the time

 

No, I’m looking for people

Mortal people

I haven’t mentioned scientists

I’d have to ask my sister for

Recommendations

Since Stephen Gould,

Carl Sagan,

Marie Curie are no longer

Around

People who living

And through vision’s mighty efforts

Are trying to improve the world,

The only way to save it

Save us in it

Without invitation but a mandate

To survive ourselves

In bestowing riches

To the future

And today

 

Did I mention I’d like to meet Dolly Parton?

What she does for children

And for books,

My!

 

C L Couch

 

 

photo by Rabie Madaci on Unsplash

library, Annaba, Algeria

 

10

Satisfaction

Satisfaction

 

Maybe we’ve done enough

For now

There is an artificial virtue

Made of busyness

It’s plastic in the worst way,

Unmalleable

 

Activity in, paycheck out

As if that were enough

So we make new virtues

Out of ennui,

What passes for

The watercooler

Probably online

 

There should be joy in work

In accomplishment

What to say if the jobs

Were never ours

By art or temperament

But we took them, anyway

Because need honestly drives

 

What we have, we have

And if it’s not satisfaction,

Then we’ll have to

Add it in

Sorry perhaps

But for each there’s a life that’s calling

It isn’t busy

But it can be filled

With oxygen and all kinds

Of proper acquisition

Not to mention better

Satisfaction

Self-defined

Tempered by others

 

A community whose circle

Is kept porous

For something new

Maybe in companionship

To keep

Or with kindness

To let go

 

Which is to say

Caprice is never warranted

We are allowed to want

We don’t have to seek

Or keep

In avarice

Protection notwithstanding

(we protect each other),

A life of want and keep

Should be just fine

 

There’s room for everyone

And everyone deserves a turn

The invitation to speak

Should go all around

The planet

The planet’s big; there are

Resources for it

 

If a message, aimed at anyone

Because no one is particular,

Says be afraid

Be angry

When there’s no reason

And we have our better things to do

 

Let’s put it away

Walk on

Find friends

And whatever we have made

And are making

Of homes

Of home,

The better urge for work

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Mike Petrucci on Unsplash

 

6

Earthly Revelation

Earthly Revelation

 

Peace,

Let us have peace

The Skeksis pleaded

In The Dark Crystal

I think he meant it, though

The times were changing

And so he couldn’t have it,

Not his way

The way was not to change

To keep power in its place

Let prophecies go by,

Ignore the signs

 

But sometimes things are

Larger than ambition

(Did I say sometimes?),

And the larger things will have

Their way, especially

When, what do you know,

Peace is the end

A lasting kind

Because the sky has willed it

Not violent design

No, never

 

My voice sounds old

Maybe it is

I tire of the ranting

Maybe you do, too

And if you’re young,

Then you have an early start

On wisdom

Good for you

And for the world,

Remembering that fantasy

As dear Jim knew

Can inspire minds

And hearts

For real,

For really good work

Since change is destiny

 

Since change is destiny,

Let’s make it grand

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Justin Kauffman on Unsplash

 

 

2

Narratology

Narratology

 

Intermission

 

It’s a new gray day

We had a thunderstorm last night

Hard to tell from the second floor,

Which is too bad

Because I like watching rain

It wasn’t the kind that cleans out

The humidity

More like a tropical experience

Hot and humid for the next spate

Of days, our daily rainfall

Followed by more closeness

In the air

Sigh

Keep the breathing on the inside

And hope the air-conditioner

Holds out

 

Interaction

 

The headaches are a little less

I feel more like

Talking with people

Or a pet

A quiet day

But not silent

Though once again

The mean noise from upstairs

Continues

I have to get out of here

I looked at a place last week

A garret, I could call it

To be romantic

But I expect higher ceilings

Wider windows

In my life of La Bohème

More importantly

And to the point or searching,

I need these

The claustrophobe inside

Requires them

More sighing for a disappointment

This time as much

In myself

 

Intercession

 

The world is still on fire

If only it were a matter

Of volcanoes*

Bad enough, though we could

Work on them together

There are the metaphoric fires

That are deadly, too

The kind we set

In a plan

To burn up each other

 

My dear world is on fire

Why must we do this?

Calling it a crime is not enough

When enforcement is

In question, too

I used to think the cops

Were on my side

I still do

As for other people,

There are all kinds

Some see a protest

As an opportunity for

Stealing so much more than

Civil attention

 

And there are guns

So many guns

All around

Without the trained sense

To use them

Much less over-use them

So people die

On all sides

How many didn’t have to?

 

Let’s not leave it with a question

Let’s answer them

In memory

To bring the count down

And then out upon the canvas

In this case,

The opposite of conscious

I know I preach

But there it is

I want my world better

It want to leave it better

Than I found it

You should, too

So should we all

 

Ask for this

Ask for peace

Then let us make it happen

 

Shooting something’s easy

Keeping a farm

Mining a mine

Building a rocket**

Assembly in a factory

That’s hard

You want a challenge?

Try building something

Raise a barn

A house

A cabin in the woods

Make art for many to love

Compose an inspiration

Maybe on a page

In a mural

Or a house

Or in fixing the plumbing

Anything can be

Larger than it is

Convenience

Comfort

These can be inspiration, too

Or simply means for

A good conversation on a Sunday afternoon

(there should be peace in that)

Voting is an inspiration, too

Don’t forget

Or take the government you get

(cheating nationwide and

in the world notwithstanding)

Talk out the world

Talk out the trouble

Better yet, listen

And fix the plumbing

 

Feed everyone around you,

If you can

And if you can’t, then enjoy

What is given

Or otherwise provided

Maybe a pot-luck

Like the kind at church

Maybe a pot-luck for the world

 

That is my intercession

Feed the world

Provide safety in the water

Make good wine

In memory of Cana

Or don’t, if it’s not

Your disposition

There are problems

Hear them

Then get help in fixing them

 

There are problems

We have a way to go

To have the world

Better than we found it

 

C L Couch

 

 

*I looked up the plural spelling of volcano.  (Once-and-future English teacher.)  Some say the spelling’s interchangeable with the e.  Volcanoes (with the e) seems more traditional and typical.  Also the e in interchangeable.

**I was watching October Sky over the weekend.

 

Photo by Jorik Kleen on Unsplash

(there was no note, but I believe the bridge is in the Netherlands)

 

4

Aphoristically Yours

Aphoristically Yours

 

Friend,

 

You know more than I

So I’d rather listen

If you want to hear from me

That’s all right, too

 

Some would say

And they are wise

This is the definition of

A friendship

 

Some might say

It is a paradox

There would be too much silence

For the talking

 

Well, embrace the contrary

If everyone is listening

There might be fewer words

But greater truth

Prevail

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Trung Thanh on Unsplash

Kim Lien High School, Vietnam

 

8

One More Act

One More Act

 

Regarding salvation,

Theophilus,

It is an easy plan

It has to be

Don’t be disappointed

Each one of everyone

Must perceive

The Lord

It can’t be a secret,

Though for now we need a secret

To survive

A code

Or something

 

Somehow, each one

Gets the story

In a saving way

We can’t be hiding that

Thank goodness, we don’t

God would crowd in, anyway

Should we get it wrong

There must be

Truth in belief and a cadre

To keep it

 

Somehow the story

Must appeal

To the old, the young

The angry and the fearful

How much we know cannot be

The matter of

God’s apprehending each

Once the hand is raised

And if no skill to do that

Raised with help

From proxy friends

 

But each one’s own

Encounter

Must compel

And must, because there is

Perfect love in the process

A compelling invitation

Stamped with joy

Delivered in peace

Whose cost, mind you,

Is nothing

 

It’s a great day,

Theophilus,

Even though we scratch

Into the ground for recognition

We are fishers

With the perfect net

That will not kill or maim

Or serve up the wrong fish

Into the boat

Or on the shore

Consider it a plan

Better than any other

There should be no wounds

Outside or inside

Except those delivered

By the world

 

The net actually fails

There is no net

Yet the job is done

It’s done in thread

That holds nothing together

So must we in peace

Proclaim the Lord,

Which will be hard for us

Though God demands somehow we keep

The opposites together

 

(a greeting in my hand)

My peer, my student, and my friend

It is the hardest work we do

And rise above the scars

Yet the prize is easy

It is not ours

But kept by one who knows our names

Better yet, prizes our spirits

Gain the faith in truth and love

A day of gladness when there’s one

And only one

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Brina Blum on Unsplash

Trèbes, France

It was on a lovely and sunny day in Trèbes in France. I found this lonely and lost mailbox on the wall of an old house. Looks so beautiful.

 

 

 

14

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