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clcouch123

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clcouch123

In conversation, I prefer Christopher. My mom named me after Christopher Robin, after all. In writing, I use “C L Couch” (or, more simply, “c l couch”) because the form is genderless and also frankly easier to use. I have awful writer’s cramp. I am an educator more or less retired, more or less due to disability. At present, I live in Mechanicsburg, Pennsylvania (USA). My writing here I mean to be occasional and also devotional. Either or both. The banner and profile photographs are by my friend and peer Debra Danielson. More of Debbie’s work to be enjoyed is at debradanielson.org. Thanks to each of you and both and all for coming to my blog.

Nos Temps Perdu

(x = space)

x

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Nos Temps Perdu

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Bad memories

Shameful

We wince

But it’s okay

Freudianism aside

(which I guess

we cannot do,

not entirely)

They are over now

We don’t have to

Live them

There should be

Some knee-jerk

Relief in this

We don’t have to live them

More than once,

The once that lived them

x

There’s much to do,

Of course

Therapy and such

And telling those

Who must be told

While learning

Not to tell it again and again

To ourselves

Or live them

Many times more

x

Enough ownership

To say

That happened

It’s made a difference

Here it is

A thing that

Doesn’t have to rule

My nerves

x

Then there are

The good parts:

Learning

Or sometimes simply pleasure

Recalled from

Good things that have happened

If we’re going to live in memory

From time to time,

There are

The good parts, too

And, oh yeah, there is today

Where we are now

x

Hello

Doctor

Name

Continue

Yesterday

Tomorrow

x

Machine memory

Human memory

Both have glitches

Both can be recollected

Let go or kept in health

With clarity

x

C L Couch

x

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National Parc of Tassili n’Ajjer, Algerian Sahara, near Djanet, rock engravings (7000 years old)

Photo by Azzedine Rouichi on Unsplash

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Abashed

(x = space)

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Abashed

x

We say things

As we do

I’m not sure why

Maybe there is

Something to that

Small angel character

With the devil on

The other side,

Which we’ve seen and heard

In cartoons

Maybe the devil and the angel

Each tell us

What to say

We must decide

Then brush the other off

Both will come back in

The next episode

When we must

Choose again

And act accordingly

The devil, you say

We say

We don’t say

The angel, you say

Maybe in shame,

The kind

That got us

Kicked out of Eden

x

C L Couch

x

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Photo by serena saponaro on Unsplash

Ferrara, FE, Italia

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Youse

(x = space)

x

x

Youse

x

I should go to sleep

Again

I haven’t tried all night

Enjoying peace, I think

The chance to think my thoughts

Without

Explosions

x

I have my coffee

And a couple of French rolls

Outside the window,

The view

Is clear

Well-defined—early morning,

Lack of humidity,

I don’t know

x

In this moment

And maybe only this one,

It is a gift

I have been given

The start of day

And brief clarity

x

A bite, it’s good

A sip

A thought

Trying to enjoy an easy feeling

Like slow jazz

x

I hope you have a good day

I haven’t

Said that for a while

Not that

I don’t think it

Every time I do this

You deserve it

x

I don’t know what

Adventures might

Be launched

Or the first steps taken

Unbeknown

Unaware

Not that it’s all romance

It’s not much romance

Really

But I think to throw a coin,

Not knowing where

The nearest designated

Well might be

Inviting you to wish

In the fine day

I hope you have

x

Yes, it takes the start of day

Whenever that

Might happen, since it’s

Changeable

Some clarity in

At least two kinds

Of sky

Brief lack of worry over

Food and drink

Now something good

Can begin

x

C L Couch

x

x

note

Youse is probably distinctive of my country.  It’s common in the Northeast.  If I were in Pittsburgh and the region there, I might say y’ins.  Apologies.

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youngsters huddling together

Photo by S. H. Gue on Unsplash x

6

Out of the Not so Silent Planet

(x = space)

x

x

Out of the Not so Silent Planet

(on a Wednesday)

x

On the hump day

(bless the camel)

Or on any day

We might turn to God,

Which can be a matter of

Turning inside,

Somehow

We acknowledge God

That voice inside

And coming from the outside

Coming from you

Inspired or directed

Seeming

Happenstance, perhaps

We listen

We should listen

No matter if there’s sound

We also learn

Through touch or taste

Of other of the senses

Listening in time

Receiving new instructions

That might say

Stop, be here with me

A while

Then move on

Or might say

Move on, now

We stewards of the realm

Will have our orders

In this funny place

Where there is a monarch

Everyone else

A steward charged with

Variously

Caring for the realm

To move it forward

Into safety and progression

For the approval

Of the other worlds that

With our Lord

Do watch us now

x

C L Couch

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5

Deborah Would Know

(x = space)

x

x

Deborah Would Know

x

So where will I go

And how will I get there?

I will go with help

To a place that’s been decided,

Which is an affirmation

Of some sort of prophecy

And nothing of

My own

Where it be miracle or grace

Or a birthday surprise

Tickets for the circus

Though I found close-up

The circus had been hard

On animals

(I hear they’re doing better)

Somewhere

Somehow

Like lyrics in a song

Something fixed

Something to believe in,

Something to avoid

Eaten up with stress

If only I could believe

As I believe in the core of Earth

Or air,

Both unseen

Or unheard

Except when working on or in

Something else

x

C L Couch

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a statue of Deborah (1792) in Aix-en-Provence, France

by Georges Seguin (Okki) – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=1524991

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8

National Hispanic Heritage Month

(x = space)

x

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National Hispanic Heritage Month

(in the USA, E.E.U.U.)

x

It is

Spanish-American

Heritage Month

Smartly set

From mid-September

To mid-October

I probably should not

Off a tribute

With my schoolroom

Spanish

x

Colors

Movement

Music

Dance

These are what we know

The heart

The heritage

We must learn

The Anglos

And the rest

All our lives

Would be so much better

x

We need them here,

The Latinx

I don’t know what this

Says about

Borders

Except that they

Be porous

As I once experienced

When living in

California

Chula Vista

And took the bus

For fifty cents

To Mexico

x

And drove into

The northern countryside

Toward Tecate

On other occasions

Buying tile for work

And bread

Dosed with sugar

Bread of many colors

That had to be eaten

In the day

After purchase from

The panadería

x

And in the town

South of mine

Where I live now

Stores with Spanish signs

Because it’s where

The migrant

Workers and their families

Shop

And there are signs

For churches,

Too

A life I am not close to

Though in its own

In their own

It is full

x

I think I might

Be welcomed

Should I walk inside

Even with

My schoolroom Spanish

Pero

No sé exactamente

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C L Couch

x

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Snapped this photo of my cousin while hiking in Colorado.

Photo by Sarah Cervantes on Unsplash

Breckenridge, United States

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0

Pray for All the Bad People

(x = space)

x

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Pray for All the Bad People

x

Too often

I don’t like the world

So much

Too much of it is ugly

And dissembling

And there are brutal people

Who would take everything

From everyone else

If they could,

Who would like to hear

What I have just said

About them

x

But I have a moment

Now

The breeze is on me

There is sunshine

Blue inside green trees

Thinking about

The change to autumn

Things don’t have to be so bad

Not everywhere

With everyone

I know there are people

So much better

Than myself

Who would have prayed

For me

And for my attitude

x

I can’t collapse

Into a ball

Of self-decided evil

I am not all bad

Or all good

Neither are you

We’re a mixture and we try

There are some who won’t,

I guess

Who see the quantities

As hollow and would prefer

A blank space from which

To self-determine

x

Choice is good

I choose to lean toward good

I hope you do

Though I will not decide for you

And must respect your humanity

As I struggle to respect

My own

x

They are not

Two sides of a coin

This is not the plain

Of Manichee

Though I think there might be

A garden or such place

In which we may decide

What is what

Who is who

With peace inside

While time waits without

x

Choose what you will

There is precedence

I will pray

As you can

As you will

You will pray

x

C L Couch

x

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1 Real

Photo by Eduardo Soares on Unsplash

Brazil

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0

And All Forgotten Wars

(x = space)

x

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And All Forgotten Wars

x

I hold my head

Look at the mottled

Skin on my legs

And wonder

In addition to

Genetics,

How my father did it

How did he live?

What was happening

On the inside?

He was alone

For so long,

One way or the other

I think he wanted

Peace

From the war

But wouldn’t say so

And eventually

The lack of peace

Took him

Pushed him

Where he did not want

To go

Inside a dark place

That would accept

No light

x

C L Couch

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The U.S. Navy destroyer USS Walke (DD-723) underway at sea in Far Eastern waters, 23 November 1953.

by W.L. Fowler, U.S. Navy, from USS Yorktown (CVA-10) – U.S. Navy photo NH 99810, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=1622057

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Listen

(x = space)

x

x

Listen

x

Up

Down

Inside

Outside

For alarms

For words—for

Signals

Of all things

That make a world

Listen for

Small voices

The kind that

Make a testament

As at Mizpah

Me and thee

On Sinai

And in

The gospel message

Good news

Of all kinds

That make a world

That made

The heavens, too

All things

That will last

Listen to them

x

C L Couch

x

x

Pass by

Photo by María Julia Martínez on Unsplash

Granada , Spain

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