2 poems about the day
Fish Fry
(check the shape of stanza'd, ichthus undulation)
Friday
Fry day
Fish fry day
At the Catholic church
For penance
I suppose
Though the is
So much
One can’t complain
Of abstemious devotion
And the money
Should go somewhere
Good
And we Protestants
Can enjoy that
Too
Should we think on it
While crunching into fish with
Whatever else
Is
Provided
Yay
Catholics
Thank you for
This weekend treat
You all
Have
A great weekend
Too
After all the cooking
(the worry over getting
burned
while frying)
And all the cleaning
That frankly
We did not
Have to do
Though when it’s our turn with
A rummage sale
We’ll clean up
Afterward
For you
Thirteen O’Phobia
Today is Friday
A thirteenth
Sorry to
Triskaidekaphobes
Watch out
Black cats
They’ll be avoiding you
Which now I think it
Might be the quite suitable
Arrangement
And ladders
Mirrors
Sidewalk
Cracks
Salt containers
All the things that make
This day less
Amenable
And it’s the number
Generally
As well
The lack of such in buildings
Even
Now
And what was it
Crucifixion on a Friday
Or the barbaric
Gory dissolution of the Templars
On a Friday
Thirteenth
Early in the fourteenth century
(1307
look
another thirteen)
And Judas killed himself
Maybe on that
Friday
Being the thirteenth disciple
(once removed)
In some lore
But for me
And maybe I should apologize
I often
Find
The day goes very well
Which might be
Determination
Or
Luck
Half-Irish luck
For my mother’s family
While on my father’s
Side
There are the English
Who most likely
Do not care
About the day and
Date
As long as the flag is flying
Somewhere in a
Time zone
Over Earth
C L Couch
(9/13/2024)
Photo by Zoltan Tasi on Unsplash
Matthias, Paul, Judas—who is the thirteenth disciple/Apostle? (Rhetorical question--depends on whose tradition's answering.)
Painless
(for patient patients)
I need my pain
The captain
Said
And I suppose
The captain’s
Right
Worse the luck
For all
The pain
That is
In the world
My portion
In
My body
At the moment
And for hours
And for
Days
Treatments
Notwithstanding
(they help for
a while
sometimes
but
might not resolve)
I complain
It’s inconvenient
And
Might be a sign
Of
Something worse
Inside where
I can’t see
Of
Course
And maybe a medico
Or a machine
Will tell
It is a signal
That something
Is wrong
And as
A constant
Thing
Might mean
There’s always
Something
Wrong
Which could be a
Signal
Even
Of mortality
To bear
There’s pain
And there is pain
‘Cause
There are kinds
And painless be
The world
In
The future
On
The other side
Apocalyptic
When joy
Shall go unmingled
And
Can we
Imagine
Such a thing
A time
(timeless)
And place
(not
placeless)
And new condition
While
We carry what
We carry
And regarding
Hurt
We try and
Others try
To fix us
For forbearance
And for health
Here
And now
(not timeless)
C L Couch
Captain Kirk is quoted
Photo by National Cancer Institute on Unsplash
To the Dark Towers Came
The news said
that
a private plane
had hit
one of the towers
of
the World Trade Center.
I felt awful for
the pilot
and the passenger.
I had to get to school.
I listened
to the radio
on the way. The news
was
still confused.
I got
to school and walked from
the car to the building
where
the classroom was. I
entered
the room to find
the TV on,
everyone staring. Then
I found out
what happened,
that
the towers were gone, one
tower then
the other.
The planes were
jet liners. Commercial
planes.
Hundreds of folk
were
running toward
the site
to try
to rescue thousands.
No doubt
these responders looked
up
to see
the buildings there,
made of air
and memory.
C L Couch
Photo by In Memory of Yan Ji on Unsplash
Child No More
The end of childhood
Clarke tells us
In a story
It’s about evolution
And we change
We develop
And someday with help
Maybe
Dramatically
Or drastically
We’ll grow beyond our knowing
Into something
New
And sometimes what is new is
Frightening
At the least it’s
Inconvenient
Packing up old things
Sometimes
Unpacking
The new things or
Waiting
For delivery
Depending on who’s helping us
Depending on resources
That maybe have arrived as
New capacities
Already
New
Ways
Of seeing things
Of understanding
Goodness
It’s a sci-fi story
After all
Speculation into future
Possibilities
I guess we have to grow
We can’t stay still on
Earth
Forever
It’s doesn’t work that way
For even Earth
Will change
And we won’t stay
We can’t
The Earth and us
Are changing now
C L Couch
Childhood's End by Arthur C. Clarke
Photo by K8 on Unsplash
n. b.
Which doesn’t
Mean
We destroy the Earth
While we’re
Here
The cosmos will not welcome us
This way
And those who think to
Hurry Armageddon
Are close to a lunacy
Of strategy
And should be walking back
Any notions
Of playing God
Or playing
God
How We Might Be Made
In a cloistered class
Someone could
Ask
Maybe
Inspired by
A word
Where do we live
Inside
And how might that relate
To what’s outside
Say
(say)
How do we
Live inside
In a war
And then after
If alive
In a time of troubled
Unbelieving peace
Inside
While
Waiting for what happens
To break and ruin
Outside
Once again
How does we prize
Our own
Ambition
Against all the things
In the world
That
Take the pursuit of
Dreams
Away
How do we act our dreams
After war
Even a war with nature
Though
War with each other
With humanity
Seems worse
But after trauma
Living trauma
Then in such a group
To begin
A response
Well
(well)
We hope
We can
C L Couch
Photo by Julia Rekamie on Unsplash
Orange You Glad
Orange for fall
Or in the sunrise
Or the sunset
Or in something that we’ll see
Through the day
Like
You know
An orange
Or we’ll hear the word
Or pull out a chair
Wrapped in orange cloth
(made
of whatever)
Or we’ll smell upon
Unpeeling
Or taste the actual thing
And
Fall or fruit
We might be reminded
That bright colors
Are a good thing
Or bright
Sounds
Or maybe something else
That’s bright
Like feelings
Or an insight
Not that the muted tones
Don’t matter
For they do
But
Metaphors for brilliance
Are a good thing
Especially
When color is on Earth
So readily
And ethically
Available
C L Couch
Photo by Simone Fischer on Unsplash
(there is a riddle and a pun that in English renders “orange” into “aren’t you”—sorry it most likely doesn’t translate well in other languages)
you know that thing
you know that thing
that
someone had said
about insanity
meaning
doing the same thing
(not working)
and expecting something different
(successful)
next
time
I don’t mean
the tungsten thing
you know
when
Edison tried a hundred filaments or so
to light a light bulb for
a while
‘cause
each time
he tried a different substance
and
in fact
could say he found
he found a hundred ways
not
to light
a light bulb
of course
then what happened
maybe not with Edison
was that
light bulbs were staying lit
too
long
and so they were
changed
to stay lit for
shorter lengths of
time
(like Shakespeare’s brief candle
meaning length
of life)
and so
less lengthy
so to say
light bulbs were re-invented
re-provided
thus
securing
among other things
our
disposable society
then there was
the Stanley Steamer
which
is
if similar
another story
c l couch
photo by Félix Girault on Unsplash
max
there are rough edges
next
to polished ones
rough things unattended
unattending
not worth much
except attention by
the way
of splinters
on the fleshy parts of fingers
or maybe
with greater pain
underneath
nails
we sand these away
work them over with varnish
and right angles
taking them
down
using nail guns
then attaching labels
with squiggly squares
(QR?)
promising of prices
and that’s wood
but it applies to fabric
too
and even bricks
so many things
in fact
in order
(and ordering)
to have a smooth
and gilt
world
without rough
except for sex sometimes
which in the morning
is forgotten
over
coffee
served with euphemistic language
and we shop
and look for
the next smooth things
to wear
c l couch
(not advocating hair-shirts at all—only a thought about rough edges, say, on trees)
photo by Lili Kovac on Unsplash
Unseeing
(for those who nearer wait and might get scared about it)
One of the invisible
Left
It seems
To deal with mortality
Alone
For who can understand
How close we are
And who is interested
To know
By being near
To hear
About it all
I believe
Help my unbelief
This prayer
Should be for children
But we own it for
Ourselves
With or without
Temerity
What really happens next
And why must we
Transition to it
With more
Than
An easy walking there
Why does it
Or might it
Hurt so much
Why is it so hard
Here
To come back
From being hurt in
Any way
Is it compensation
For younger
Sinful
Times
It is a kind of preparation
Rehearsing for the final hurt
When we let go
When time
As such
Lets go of us
And will it hurt
And will we sleep
And wake
To walk
Or will we fly
From where we are
And on landing
Will we have
Such a good time
There
So much we do not know
And maybe we aren’t
Listening
Or maybe we discount
What there is to
Hear
In the rush that drowns out everything
Spiritually
to apprehend
As in
What we may buy to own
What we may have
Or believe to have
And I’m sorry for those
Who do not go so far this
Side of things
Who must leave
Early
In our count of things
Without allowances for time
In satisfaction
But in
Something uncounted
Like
Explosions
Leave too soon
Sorry I don’t take you now
While I’m afraid
Trying to make a circle
Of attention
Out of one
And only one
Who feels
Has lost
The other points
To bend the line
To join only
With
A math of one
But could
Relent
In hope
To see
To sense
To know
To say
I am a part of this
Of many points
And
Part of this
And part of them
With me
The points
That is
Be people
Not of politics
(below)
But of a new
And brilliant circle
As we might sing
Of the unbroken kind
And so I could
And should
Join in
And let the others
All the others
Go with me
Any age
Any time
Or nearly any situation
If I might be
Allowed
Or anyone
To advocate
To join as
Us
With us
Who have
As all
(of all
of all of us)
Come from
And thus can and may
Go
To love
A circled
And
Forever kind
Of love
C L Couch
Mark 9
Photo by Jon Tyson on Unsplash
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