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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.

Seeking Sin Eaters

(x = space)

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Seeking Sin Eaters

(Genesis 3:8, Revelation 15:16)

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We say to the sun

Or moon or stars

Or hills or valleys or any part

Of Earth that might

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To cover us,

To hide us from

The wrath of God

Or of people

Or of other consequences

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To take our names,

Apply them to another

Quantity,

To stick our names to a board

Inside another

Neighborhood, a sign

That says

We are there

(don’t come looking for us

here)

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We hide

We want to hide

From judgment

Real or imagined

In this, imagined

Is real,

Is enough

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C L Couch

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(also Hosea 10:8, Luke 23:30, and Habakkuk 2:14)

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Photo by Hanna Postova on Unsplash

Odesa, Ukraine

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Columns

(x = space)

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Columns

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Google places e-mails inside three columns of its making.  There is the inbox, where go what it has decided has some urgency.  Then there is the “Promotions” part with ads for things and notices deemed of secondary or tertiary significance.  Then there is “Social,” where go posts from WordPress, Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.  Here is where the blog posts go, which I should respond to.  I’m not sure how Google decides what goes where, since there is overlap and often I get blog notices in the inbox and advertisements, too.  When I’m feeling extra headaches and extra stress from bad neighbors in the building, the kind of stress that presses on my heart when otherwise it needn’t, the inbox is where I go first to catch up on things.  How much I might ignore depends on how bad the added pains might be.  I’ll go through the promotions next, ignoring most, because it’s relatively easy (because I ignore most of the notices for politics or my money or politics for my money of which I have little, anyway).  The column that’s ignored is “Social,” because I should devote good energy there and too often, especially lately, it seems I have none.

I know I’m missing many things.  And sometimes “Social” e-mails are slid over to the inbox, and I deal with them there because they’re there and so am I.  It’s not much of a strategy or a philosophy, because I let Google decide or WordPress (friends, maybe send things through e-mail).  The current time of extra stress and pain has been going on for a while, and it doesn’t help that the new editor at WordPress (the program) is majorly unwieldly.  But I keep up the writing and the posting part (parts), because that’s how it all begins.  And if you have forbearance, I am

thankful.

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C L Couch

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Photo by Alejandro Barba on Unsplash

Rotonda de los Jaliscienses Ilustres, Avenida Fray Antonio Alcalde, Zona Centro, Guadalajara, Jalisco, Mexico

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Spice

(x = space)

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Spice

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The flowers

They are ending, I suppose

The ones of summer,

While chrysanthemums

Are having their time outside,

This time

Their time

And we pause and pause

Maybe because it’s raining

Or it’s cold for the first

Time in a while

I’m speaking to where I live,

Which is in eastern Pennsylvania

In the middle of the

MidAtlantic, USA

Wherever you might be,

It’s fall up north

And spring down south where

The flowers that are dying

Here would rather be

So that their color

And their smoother shapes

Might go on,

Though I imagine in a relentless season

There would be end to

Flowers, anyway

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Here, the chrysanthemums

Shall have their way

For a while

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C L Couch

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Photo by Nadiya Ploschenko on Unsplash

Ukraine

today’s mood

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Angel Thieves

(x = space)

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Angel Thieves

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A metaphor

For God and God’s arrival

Is a thief in the night

A strange metaphor

But apt

(regardless of

negative connotation)

We cannot plan for the intrusion

While the thief doubles

The confusion of nighttime,

Which is to say

Without light,

It seems

x

But the thief may

Plan

And, I suppose, typically does

The mortal thief may or may not

Succeed in a theft,

Though we can surmise

That God as thief

Would do pretty well

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But what would God have

To steal?

God made everything

And thereby own

Except one thing maybe

That is human will

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Perhaps, then,

God comes to steal

Us

Steal us away

As a rescue

Then take us to paradise

Where no earthly

Theft or other sort of brigandry

Can harm us

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Where we are loved

Without shame or abrogation,

Where we might forgive

A thief who steals us

This way

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I don’t know if we’ll miss possessions

There,

Even the ones with stories

Maybe we’ll have new ones, maybe not

But as we are created in the image,

As is said,

We might have a share in everything

That lasts without corruption

Our new homes, our new bodies

Everything will last,

While life is perfectly dynamic

There

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Angel agencies defend us

Angel agents thieve us home

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C L Couch

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Photo by Chirag Nayak on Unsplash

Shop 24, Ground Floor, Building TL5 Morning Glory, Tropical Lagoon Phase 3, Anandnagar, Ghodbunder Road, Thane West, Thane, Maharas

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Foolish Wise

(x = space)

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Foolish Wise

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It’s been a while

Since a Bible study came my way

Or on occasion

When  I’ve formed one

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I miss the circle

The things we say while, frankly,

We are on our better behavior

After all, holding the book

That guides the way

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Not that we are free from sin

Or won’t resume our earthbound

Lives when

We are done for the hour,

Sipping coffee, shaking hands

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But for the time

We are good

The doorway to the spirit

Has been opened

And we are closer to the selves

We want to be

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C L Couch

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Photo by Alex Perez on Unsplash

Marco Island, United States

Make a splash.

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The Bird of Alcatraz

(x = space)

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The Bird of Alcatraz

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There’s red outside

The leaves are changing

The sky is painted blue

Behind them

Maybe it’s a perfect autumn day

Not that the window panes

Are bars (I know better),

But there are so many things

In here to attend to,

And the meanness of the neighbors

Has an imprisoning effect

As well—I know, you’d think

It would drive me out as

Often as possible

x

Well, the car needs work

I could simply walk somewhere

I’m not feeling well

In my head or in my stomach,

And there are so many things

In here

I need the energy to manage them

How did so much accumulate?

Maybe it’s a consequence

Of being poor,

Though much of it came

From the work I used to do,

That was taken from me

Through jealousy

And worldly machination

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Well, I’m here

I just exhaled

I can do that

Consciously or through

Human impulse

I hope that it continues for

A good long while

Along with the other part

(inhalation)

I’ll wait, eat, drink something

Then get up and go

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C L Couch

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English teacher note

The “Birdman of Alcatraz” is a person who became the basis for a book and a film.

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Photo by Pete Nuij on Unsplash

Langley, BC, Canada

Robin on a branch.

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First Story

(x = space)

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First Story

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The Bible is a book

Stories, sometimes

Told in poetry

The thinking of a people

And, certainly, their feelings

Faith based on

Invisibility

Not to be fanciful

But there’s a lack of evidence

That is the design

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A collection of books,

We say

Sixty-six or seventy-two

There are reasons

For the difference, we’re told

But some of us

Are wondering if

Judith was left out

By the Protestants

Because she is so heroic

While also

Scolding

Cowering men

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But take our pick, it’s still

An impressive collection

There is truth in it

In the one story, overall

Parts of the world

That point to it

Pages on leaves,

Waves telling it aloud

And other texts

And other storytellers

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It’s a book of faith

Behind that, it’s a book of love

That was the first purpose

The pleasure in the making,

We can only guess

The peace,

We’re told, is passing understanding,

Too

But maybe we can take

A guess at love

We can think it

We can think it through

We can feel it

We can feel it through

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The story is compelling

As it is pervasive

We can enjoy it

(try the creating)

We can be persuaded

We can be grossed out from

Time to time

We can be changed

We can be saved

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C L Couch

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Photo by Aleksei Ieshkin on Unsplash

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A Friday in October of 1492

(x = space)

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A Friday in October of 1492

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He got no farther west

Than Panama,

Nine days’ journey to another ocean

And an open way (it was

presumed)

To China—

This country but a way station

To the eastern lands

Of Asia,

A new sailing away

Needs driving to exist

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But the nine days would have

Been spent over land

(for now),

And he wanted ships

To make the journey

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So he demurred

And then refused,

Returning to the boats

He knew well,

Even if he did not understand

The world he had found

For Europe to exploit

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The Taino people killed,

An exchange of diseases

Gold taken

And new spices

God is offered

By the sword

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All our legacies

Over here

What is there to say

But that this is us,

All of us,

On land and over water,

Then and now

West of east

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C L Couch

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Columbus, the Lost Voyage

based on the work of Martin Dugard

narrated by Edward Hermann

(a ritual for watching

and for hearing)

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Photo by The New York Public Library on Unsplash

Manhattan, New York, NY, USA

Theoline, Pier 11 or 12, East River, Manhattan. 1936

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How We May Live

(x = space)

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How We May Live

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It’s all right

We don’t have to agree

To have a family

Or a nation

The world is filled with

Variance of thought,

And opinions bleed

And stay still

Like colors

And affiliations

Of the rainbow

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Democratic theory says

That you and I

May argue toward no

Solution or a change

Today or ever

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And democratic practice is

Even better,

For you and I may feed the hungry

And encourage those

In all kinds of trouble, all

The same

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We both and together

May fill bags

With sand along

The growling, killing river

As we (after washing) may

Dispense soup

To the rescued

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This is how to live

With variation

And to live with variation

Active in

Needs that are subsuming—those

Of the hungry or the flooded or,

After fire, the singed

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Arguing the other situations

When we may breathe

Again with clarity

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Happy days

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C L Couch

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Photo by David Clode on Unsplash

Cairns, Australia

Olive oil on water. “Immiscible 1”. The photo is called immiscible because oil and water don’t mix. The background colours come from a painting behind which is titled “Joy” and is itself bubble shapes like balloons of cheerful colours, where I have tried to express the emotion of joy in a painting, much like Mark Rothko.

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