smells and whatever from outside
(not named for Ralph but look below)
like
sometimes when
not so bad
but
takes a dog
I used to like the smell of my wet dog
I suppose because I knew
I’d
dry him off
first thing
yet while wet
he'd smell ike him
and
also like
affectionthen
then
he’d jump on the bed
and we might be sleeping if
only his
and then a new day to get wet
which sometimes
if a creek
a dog loves to do
c l couch
photo by Arūnas Naujokas on Unsplash
thank you, photographer--photo looks like Ralph who had not spots but the bigger patches, black and white, and same shape overall; of course, your preference is for your dog, as it should be
teaching/learning on 9/11
we had
each and all
been moving somewhere
somehow
on plains
in vales
of smoke and ash
then met
where
our collective breath held now
for
news
gaze enough
to see
to hear
from our devices
and
for some
of us
having to employ our senses
so
much closer in
thus goes that day
in hours
our
classroom experience
where
systems and who knows the frame
of Providence
by
unknown dimensions
set for us
by which
we
had been gathered
c l couch
photo by Zhuo Cheng you on Unsplash
particulates
what’s in the air
beside air
beside oxygen and nitrogen
argon
and the rest that has been there
for ages
with additions of smoke
in time
and then smog
radioactivity
changing art appreciation
and
the health of lungs
and such
other chemicals by now
plus plastic
parts
parts per million I suppose to measure
we breathe in bad things by us
belying the cartoon
version
of
artificial respiration
out with the bad air
in with the good
now
out with the bad air
in with badder
why we pollute ourselves
should be
a global conundrum
of
some
well
great urgency
we breathe through filters
helped by machines and when it’s worse
through
masks
we drink water from our plastic
metal bottles
we think we are immune
I guess
some of us
I guess
while failing to track for everyone
since
everyone’s affected
the work of all
societies
that measure and by measure
warn
the rates of cancer
c l couch
photo by Leo_Visions on Unsplash
“Los Angeles, CA, USA”
(another preachy poem, and I could be sorry, but this one came to mind and word by my experience)
the final Earthly war
perhaps
the final war
waged
now
shall be
tyranny versus democracy
and
who’s to win
should be sure
and
maybe isn’t
not
because war must be exciting
fighting the eldritch side
like
Darth Vader should
be fun
like a matinee
rather
because the sides aren’t equal
and the wrong side
material
become insubstantial
yet with what real weapons
real fighters
shall go
down
until the proper victory is called
the villains skitter
off
toward hell
the winners build a present and a future
by
and for us all
and this is the abstract
of the visceral
truth
of it
c l couch
photo by Sebastian Schuster on Unsplash
“diverging motorway from underneath”
two poems about me, all of us
a story for me
(and you)
let’s
see what I recall
she asked me
do you know what your name
means
and
I said
yes
it means cross-bearer
to which she then asked
do you
know the story
and I didn’t
there was a wide river
and a man who
for a living
carried people to the other side
one day then
a child
came to the man
the child requesting
to
be carried across the water
and
so he took the child on his shoulders
and proceeded
and as they moved
it seemed
the child got heavier to bear
and then
heavier
the current of the river and the distance
made
everything more difficult
though it was the weight of the child
that mattered
most
so that the man
said to the child
I feel as if
I’m carrying the weight of the world
to which the child replied
you are
and that’s the story of the saint
named Christopher
and
I’ve kept that story from
my teacher
when in school and to
this day
so
I know there’s much to write about
about
earthquake and war
fire
flood and strikes
and such
and not
to dismiss
anything in the world with which I often
feel
uncomfortable
and yet
must love so much
but
sometimes it is me
as it is you
and we are one by one
as well
as
together
and each one matters
as
togetherness matters
and sometimes
you know
there is the day and only one soul
then
another
and what happens from inside to
the outside
through one and then another
to
the world
eventually
is what we have
one
two
together
more
the world
forever
c(hristopher) l couch
photo by engin akyurt on Unsplash
“long exposure image of a river flowing in the forest”
the better college time
Sunday afternoon
was
followed by the evening
in the chapel
and
we would in the choir sing and then
haul ourselves down
front
for the sermon
and
then would sing again
everyone
we all
took part
and there was a song
we sung
while the church organ vibed beneath
and the song
was
telling us
that some things like this day were
done
and out into the air
back to
our dorms
as
quickly to forget
and worry like wool being
our worries
we tried nonetheless to work for
Monday
if
unprepared
and should come regardless
yet the better words
than
stress alone
now
the day is over
night is drawing
nigh
shadows of the evening steal
across the sky
I’m sorry you can’t hear the tune
until you can
but
there are words
and grammared nicely
if
and as reordered
above
and
(yet)
reading these even just now
might
take you into night
its and our assurance
of
the night
c l couch
photo by Daniil Silantev on Unsplash
red and then orange
though for fall the green has yet
to let go at last
(don’t mean to be on a one-trick pony about fall, but I’m glad to be arriving here and now, now and here)
evergreen complains
you bring on fall all you want
we know how we’ll stay
(this one seems to have come out all its own, as it were on its own)
c l couch
photo by Aurora K on Unsplash
dear God about the seasons
I see red back there
the colors turn
I guess
the last spell
coldish
helped
the sky is blue-gray and bright
there are green leaves
in shade
pre-fall then
and beautiful
for
what it is
plus reminding to us all here
up here
what is to come
while in Australia
and
New Zealand
it is
changing
well
symbolically from white
to green
and of these
the season-tones
I have
I
should gift-thank-you
and
I do
while thanking
and
respecting
of the people
way down
south
as I must think of these
down
while I am up
and
it would be just
to have an upside-
down
globe
to have the downside up
and become
the normal
up
regarding our perceptions
let south be north
for a while
c l couch
photo by Faith Lehman on Unsplash
2 disparate poems (one poem about church, the other about art)
church time
liturgy
a language for the church at prayer
though we can go through
the mass book
on our own
the missal
I should say
not sacred language
in whatever language
unless
there is a translation
of glossolalia
but
as far as I know
normal words
that
enable me to go through
devotion
or a service
on my own
or two could
do
and this is church
is
said
that two or three are gathered
and no more
which means I’m not
a church
by myself
and
should have company
in prayer
and worship
(prayer for worship)
if
we want this to be church
as if it’s us
there is
perhaps while in the formal feeling
again
I ask
does art come from pain
and must it
always
love what we do
do what we love
we’re told
trite
cliché
advice a trope
along with dream big
I suppose
and
we know that life is hard
the artist thrown out from the start
or
disenfranchised once
the vision’s owned
because
normalcy
without a challenge is what’s
paid for
and
not the art
except that it appear
magic
at the show
someone decides to buy it
for
colors that complement
or
honestly could be because someone
is moved
(and
the colors complement)
never pay the artist
though
assuming
grants
or commissions
that for most
are in an air
too rare to breathe
and so
we go like the bohème
in a garett that’s happy enough
while
poor
until the poverty should bring disease
without a cure to pay for
by medicine
or
southern Italy
with the means to rest
and so
sun-heal
and I exaggerate
and
don’t
and so after
losing
what
the ordinary company of
one
next to another
having lost most of the world
already
there is work
and it might be art
and
I think shall be
proving
the thesis of the ages
I suppose
except for those who were not poor
to art
who
I imagine
started out that way
by something else
and then the provocations
to the institutions
true
freedom and creation
that outcast
as they please
c l couch
photo by The Cleveland Museum of Art on Unsplash
Harmonious Times, Paul Signac
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