four more-or-less October poems (three poems narrative while one verse plaintive)
who takes the autumn time
fall
and I’m not ready
too cold too
fast
so
where were the colors
coming over weeks
as hot moved to cool
then to cold only at night
for
a while
yet
look at me
hear me
complaining
while
it was in the eighties well into
October with random
reason
or Earth turning
for all the heat returning
but frankly
the trees look like veterans
of the wasted early
season
green leaves with withered edges
an attempt at red now brown
meaning
late fall by climate change
and should we peak in wizened fall
from trees worn out by
normal waiting
for
the riotous return
and
it isn’t look
of course
alone
but touch the cooler wind
to smell the gradual passing
to
think on the mortality
but now breaking cycles
of the planetary model rest
to sleep under
into blade risings
with
spring
then who took the time of fall
MidAtlantic
everywhere and that would mean
south
what should be the verdant
growing time
ambassadorial
the orange cat
who
came to say hello then
walk right
in
to look for corners good for
rubbing faces
with new levels
chair
and stool
and bed
on which to leap
as if after
to plant a catly explorer’s
flag
to chirp and then
to cry a
little
signaling the visit done
and for us to go upstairs
to find
the unlocked door through
which
this pumpkin neighbor
had escaped and has come down
to call
a sibling face behind the door
of timider variety
now
waiting for the rascal-story
men’s Bible study
thought
I’d give a try
there were three plus
the proviso that
where
two or more are gathered
one
man I knew
the other not so much
but
we went on together through
the video
and readings
with
discussions on the way
and then
requests for prayer
and I asked for
my niece
and abashedly then
for
myself
and
by the way
we had gelato at the start
while
I heard tales of Italy
from two so much more traveled
than myself
so
I could learn
because they’re nothing like
well
like being there
to insurance companies
thanks
to your insurance
I’m suffering
treatments have been identified
by experts
you won’t let me have
the help
I know I’m just one person
whose numbers move through your
machine
so easy to ignore
while you gear your promotions
through yourselves
over my health
but
goodness
I wish I could feel better
from the summer’s infections
it being fall
now
and
you know
I could feel improved
but
you won’t let me
c l couch
photo by Mauro Lima on Unsplash
as Golgotha at home
vicarious
surrogate
the pain of God
on
Calvary
and so take on the unsaving burdens
of the world
without
perhaps the world asking
in fact
the world go so far as to realize the killing
whose pain to
bear
and should I ask to move away
the suffering
like the onerous
stone
each day
and should I ask hers even more
to go
though it’s false-brave of me to say
and yet
the sacrifice was there
and
does it mean
refer to and change
both kinds of pain
the body’s
and the spirit’s
and
I don’t know
but heal her
please
and then may I ask
heal me
c l couch
photo by Sandy Kumar on Unsplash
storied redemption
speak comfort
to me
Jacob
I have none to give
the time for comfort’s learning
past
if there ever had been any
even encouragement
to grow
and I could be sorry
but your
redemption’s on the line
three ghosts
and all your ghosts
to name
or nameless live in childhood
the present
and
best guesses toward the future
have substance
psychological sharp edges
while
it’s the drama of the story to find out
and what
to do
upon discovery
and what if we’re not rich
to take the town to lunch
on
Christmas day
what if the miserly that’s opened
can only loosen a new attitude
resolution
without gold-backing
will
the family take us
and we hope
so to be
taken
giving and receiving what we may and
all around
whatever day to say
as
a Dickens Christmas day
c l couch
photo by Ashkan Forouzani on Unsplash
today’s reason
I write
to distract symptoms
of
hard breathing
and pain in various systems
I could say
it’s counting age or ongoing heart
disease
but
this is new infection based on
where I live
I have a place and pay for it
and now
need another
feeling
old
disabled
poor
which could be the a place though
it’s definitely me
c l couch
photo by Sam Haddad on Unsplash
seasoned time
I wish I had a normal
life
and wish I didn’t
have
for in the odd things there is interest
like spice in the soup that I’d
just as
soon be drinking
on a Sunday night with MidAtlantic
cold outside
with frank
golden light inside
and
have these hours before Monday
though mostly to have them
on their own
honest love
flavored normally
eccentric
so consume
and in divine arrangement
mortally
so give
coda
and regarding Monday
could we not
unfrantically anticipate an enticement
in
the hours
leading to as well as when
the new ones tomorrow might
arrive
c l couch
photo by fuseviews on Unsplash
golden late-sun tree
Earth regardless tilts away
climate change stalls fall
c l couch
(next I’ll be writing about how cold it’s gotten)
photo by Conor Luddy on Unsplash
what succeeds
words fail
though
for good or ill
they
are what we have
I’m not sure what the language
is
for impulse
though I know we act
and maybe later
find
the words
and what do we think but
maybe nothing
or
perhaps
the saving words we
have because
there
are a few
c l couch
photo by Patrick Tomasso on Unsplash
(I’m sorry, I rely on words that sometimes have two meanings and I mean both, which can go hard in translation; here I mean “succeeds” as to achieve and also as what follows)
church gone
as in I went
to church today
was
driving
and
drove in because I know
the church is pretty
and probably
for something
more
saw cars pull and people going
inside
so I went in
as well
hoping I could
I don’t know
make my way by gestures
forgotten
words
half-remembered
but
worship
anyway
the church was lit as much by
morning light
I think
a stark shadow rendering
in silhouette
the gigantic cross of
Jesus
I listened to the homily
about the special
day
today
of guardian angels
of angels
everywhere
I’m sure
we gently waved to each other
maybe
a legacy of the pandemic
and we smiled
I did not take part in
the Eucharist feast
since
it was twenty years or more since
confession
(I
don’t
think I would have been caught
out)
we left
I left
got in the car
resuming my drive
more
or less
to nowhere
into a world that matters
where
and when
(yesterday)
my
niece is
sick with cancer
c l couch
photo by National Cancer Institute on Unsplash
two weeks in
there is
sun
and no new color
no brightness after fading into fall
the irony of
seasons that they meld
and then they live
set
on their own
c l couch
photo by Alexander Lunyov on Unsplash
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