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I talk you talk we'll talk

Month

August 2020

Blessings

(x = space)

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Blessings

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God is good

We say this

I think more people have more

Ways to say that

God is great

Maybe that sounds too much

Like a battle cry, so

USA suburbanites say

At grace

That God is good

x

We like the notion of

God as our friend

And God is our friend

Jesus has said so

Maybe those with God

But without God as a person

See this attitude

As thankless

Even while we’re thanking God

x

We lack perspective of

The God who leads us into

War or will take us to

A majestic place called paradise

When our impersonal

Services are done

x

It’s hard for us

With God as a person

And a friend

To think about torn flesh

In crucifixion,

Muscles pushing the lungs

To breathe

Blood flowing everywhere

And visceral humiliation

But this is what we did to God

Don’t try to place it on a group

We all took part

x

God our friend

Jesus whom we love

We killed him

And forgot the resurrection

Buried him away

And felt satisfied with that

Or mourned

x

So desiccated doctrine

That while hiding

Satisfied or scared

We wouldn’t take a drink of news

That it was not all over

Never had been

x

The women and a man

Were first witnesses then heralds

Met with skepticism

Most likely scoffs

Maybe cursing

Sanhedrin and the Romans would

Have strategized

Large human spiders among webs

While closer disciples

Struggled (badly) to perceive

To understand the words

That spoke to sights and sounds

And all sensations

From the encounters at the rounded

Tomb of Joseph

Whose first resident was gone

An absurdity, if not a crime

Of action

x

Our rabbi

Our teacher and our friend

By his own words three nights ago

Has been taken

That’s the best disciples’ thoughts could do

Modern minds would have done no better

Except to maybe add a layer of

Arrogance to it

Because in the here and now

We know better

x

Well, there was a disappearance

Then the appearing happened

God with us again

Immanuel

Where had God gone?

Nowhere in particular

Maybe to harrow hell

x

God with us again

And, by the way,

Is God

Majestic and inventive

Fear and love beholden

From souls and minds

And anything that moves in us

That breathes

That has being

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C L Couch

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Photo by Jametlene Reskp on Unsplash

Harissa, Lebanon

Tomb

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Dear Next Page

(x = space)

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x

Dear Next Page

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This isn’t a diary

Dear Poem

Or what have you

Diaries are for

Confessions

Apologies in the old-fashioned way

As in explanations

Defensive explanations

And wishes

Wishes maybe

For the world to change

x

I keep a journal,

Which in the definitive way

Is dull

Why do I think the way I do? is

Taken on

And why is there breath

Or anything

But here’s the thing,

There I often write about

The way I feel

Not asking why I feel this way,

Simply saying

x

Maybe it is a diary, after all,

In the tradition of

A lock and key

x

I have a password

x

C L Couch

x

x

Photo by Drahomír Posteby-Mach on Unsplash

Trollenäs 104, 241 92 Eslöv, Sweden, Trollenäs

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Treasure

(small x by itself = space)

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Treasure

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A tower in a forest

I’ve never come upon one

The tower

Maybe not a forest

There are woods around

But old-growth trees,

Wide trunks

Branches that go the distance

Tangling with sunshine?

It’s old magic, really

That I’m looking for

Maybe in a crystal cave

That better have tall windows

Or on a ship

Over a rounded sea

The only way to get

To the X island

x

There can be new magic

Bright and shiny

But sometimes burnished gold

Has all the answers

With a reason

For discovery

The old informs the new

And we are reminded why

The treasure hunt’s important

Everyone should seek something

With an impulse,

Suspended between

Heart and brain

On strings that play of life

And invitation

x

C L Couch

x

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Photo by Nathan Anderson on Unsplash

Silverthorne, United States

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The Nightmare Merchant

(x = space–and the expletive thought I have for the new WP editor)

x

x

The Nightmare Merchant

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I don’t like yelling

At people in my sleep

I wake up

Remembering

Feel the anger

And the uselessness

Wanting to fix things

By the light of day

I’m working out things,

I guess

Letting my subconscious

Wander freely, too freely

Maybe

I wake up with a headache

Worse than usual

With no revelation,

Either

Wondering why revel

Is in revelation

There certainly had been no party

While I slept

And dreamed bad dreams

The last dream to remember

While I’m awake today

Between the sub- and the con-,

I’ll be working on it

Still

Half-part wanting to repair

Everything,

Half-part wishing that,

Like Bartleby,

I’d really rather not

Or like Bartleby

Deal in nightmares

x

C L Couch

x

x

Imagine my surprise, nay, my consternation, when without moving from his privacy, Bartleby in a singularly mild, firm voice, replied, “I would prefer not to.”

https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/11231/pg11231-images.html

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Photo by Timothy Muza on Unsplash

Iceland

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Novitiate

(x = space)

x

x

Novitiate

x

I should say something

It’s what I do

What I’ve done

For a thousand days

I’d call it discipline

Except it doesn’t feel that way

I’d call it delight

Except I rarely feel anything

Like giddy

Anymore, it’s simply

What I do

It’s ritualized, a secular

Devotion

No orthodoxy yet,

Which tends to mean oppression

This was

Established out of freedom

As a means for physical recovery

I guess it’s working

I’m still here

Now so are you

x

C L Couch

x

x

bougie dans la neige

Photo by Siora Photography on Unsplash

x

Deadline-ism

(x = space between lines or parts–really feeling annoyed with the new editor)

x

x

Deadline-ism

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I am behind

Not in traffic

But with you

I’m sorry

I’m trying to catch up

So easily tiring, these days

Even though mostly

I’m inside

As you might be

Or otherwise, somehow

Safe

Be that way, please

I’m getting there

I’d like to see you

When this is finished

x

C L Couch

x

x

Photo by Markus Spiske on Unsplash

Made with Canon 5d Mark III and loved analog lens, Leica Summilux-R 1.4 50mm (Year: 1983)

I’m not sure if the figure is asking for help or offering it

x

Abbreviated Towers

(x = space between lines or parts;

am considering the emotional investment in hating the new WP editor)

x

x

Abbreviated Towers

x

Things are not working

I do not care

I will do just fine

With paper and a pen

(and another pen for when

the first one broke)

But then I couldn’t

Electron reach out

x

And publishing is out there, too

While I’m writing in a program

That so far is holding out

We needed something faster

Electron reaching out

And now we need

More time

x

You know how the pyramids went up?

Cathedrals, too

There was time

Slave or near-slave labor, too

But there were generations

To get them done

Such as we don’t conceive

We knock against limitations

Try to wreck them

Then say, next, please

x

We will have no more cathedrals

In part because the Protestants

Are poor

The Catholics are holding back

And independents build cathedrals

Only in their minds

But we do not have the time

A day to move a stone

A year to carve an arch

(Who knows how long for

a gargoyle?)

Thirty years for thirty arches

And then the rest

We could not stand it

x

x

How to Raise a Cathedral

(if fancily, a coda)

x

Some Victorians think

The cathedrals were built to music

(literally)

The entire community involved

Over generations

Maybe the way Tennyson

Had it, Merlin raising Camelot

To music

Or Aslan who sung

The world of Narnia into being

With all the other worlds

Close by

Or the way we do it now

The National was finished over years

Then damaged by an earthquake

The Sacred Family

Might be finished one day

(the architect’s outlived)

There is no music

But there is prosaic construction

Grand steps forward, frustrated steps

Taken back

One day to be finished

Then there should be music

(so he hears)

For at least a generation

Simply, impossibly

To have it done

x

x

C L Couch

x

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Photo by João Marcelo Martins on Unsplash

Barcelona, Spain

x

Out Goes the Bad Air

(x = break for stanzas or sections–my dislike of the new WP editor is worsening; I can’t cut-and-paste with spaces between parts, sorry)

x

Out Goes the Bad Air

(pandemic time)

x

I hope you have

A really good day

Sometimes

That’s all I got

A wish

Though it’s in earnest

x

You’re dealing with disease

So am I

You wish for easy company

If only for a while

For now, you find some time

Something to drink,

A chair that faces outside

Where nothing but

Normal motion

Might be happening

x

There might be other

Problems, too

Of course, there are

They’re not even on hold

But lurking

Or complaining rather loudly

To the soul

x

Sip the coffee

Taste the wine

It’s not a sacrament

Though nature has

Its ways

To get inside

Like faith

x

C L Couch

x

x

Photo by Daniele Levis Pelusi on Unsplash

x

The Contract

The Contract

x ( = space between sections and indications; so far, I dislike the WP editor)

1

x

Sabbath starts,

Tomorrow another,

And a vigil for Sunday observances

This time must be important

And there are traditions that,

Sabbath-like,

Will pray throughout the hours every day

x

When it passed the first time,

Creation had begun

Everything in orbit,

Even what looks happenstance

Like comets or

A train of meteors

They circle everything

Everything is circling

x

Sabbath-time

In certain lore

Is that it’s our time

A gift of rest whose precedent

Is God

The word that spoke into ex nihilo

Created everything

Then called the host to take

Some easy breathing

x

2

x

We worship God but

Once a week

And there are those who

Go for more

Somehow, God is prodding

And is waiting

Inside the box

And pushing from outside

x

Remembering it is God

Who is the source of everything

In motion

God can take rejection

Bear denial

Will not disappear

For our repudiation

Will wait inside the box

But has other places

x

For us,

What shall we say?

An issue is control

A tissue-thin issue

God has rendered thin within

The covenant

We think it means so much

And it does

Sometimes salvation turns upon it,

Though here it is:

A planet is presented to us

And by contract with each other

The terms are simple

x

Care for this

There are avatars

He knows his place

Risking it each time

She comes to us

x

C L Couch

x

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Photo by Adolfo Félix on Unsplash

Saltillo, México

Clean Night

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