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clcouch123

I talk you talk we'll talk

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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.

When an Angel Calls

When an Angel Calls

 

Come with us

 

But we’re leaving now

I look back at my life

And all the ways that

Disappointment hurt me

 

But it’s what I know

Patterns, shapes, texture,

And designation

 

I hesitate too long, I think

I look back once more

Then look ahead

Wait! I’m coming to you

 

C L Couch

Perchance

Perchance

 

Two o’clock

I should be sleeping

Too often I awake

 

Pain drives, so does

Want and dream

And vision

 

I write I dream I

Play inside my heart

 

I hope for what is

Better than I have,

More than I

Deserve

 

It’s how I dream,

I think

 

Wish and in a

Kindly boxed-in

Way

 

(That often I

Don’t understand)

 

Forget what

Drove me from my

Calling

Travels

Travels

 

If I go anywhere

I will look down and say,

The raindrops puddle here

As well

 

I will breathe what I

Know to be the same

Air molecules from home

Earthy currents being

What they are

 

The same clarity exists

Even the smells,

And I will welcome expressions

That show the same face

I find in my

Immigrant land

 

UNICEF: Half of All Refugees Are Children

UNICEF: Half of All Refugees Are Children

(headline for news story of the fact)

 

E stands for emergency

F for fund

 

And the C—well, that’s

For the halves of us

 

Our own,

Who deserve innocence

In which to incubate

 

Play and siblings whole

On learning rolls

 

Harmed only through

Mischief cared for

In embracing arms

 

Rob these ones of life

When you die

They will inherit

And make a world

As hate-able

As they find

 

When we treat them

 

And on

the altars

of the world

 

 

UNICEF: Half of All Refugees Are Children

Autumnal Oracle

Autumnal Oracle

 

Eating soft candies,

Scary pre-season

 

These are, well, all

On sale too early

 

Shapes of ghosts

And bats, since

Hallowe’en creeps

In from weeks

Ahead

 

I want rehearsal

 

Practice of time,

A witch-spell nearly

Ready to be cast

 

Haunting for a

Fool, the wise

Child’s knowing

Fear for shapes

 

Of story’s eyes in

Spectral-black

Branches made of

Arms of spikes

 

That reach down

Toward me

 

I treat myself to

A bargain invocation,

Reviving the thrill

 

Of a house of wraiths

Night-dark on

A bright horizon

One One September

One One September

 

It’s September, soon enough becomes September eleven nine-One-One used in mockery of our emergency-numeral series one plane crashes in my state; I’ve been driving by the site as it’s reclaimed

Remember, remember, eleven September—maybe we’ll be Singing that someday; not yet for the hurt only begins in telling launched a war already waged elsewhere: rightly or wrongly, it’s mattered in a vital way since then—we know the cost of some complacency, and maybe one day we’ll move on toward waging peace that has been paid for in a cost of surprise and blood broken bone and steel, symbolic of a need to fix our raging planet

Inside Total Turmoil

Inside Total Turmoil

 

well, it’s closed

 

the school is closed

and will not reopen

 

another one dies,

so what

 

capitalism’s cost

 

risk in investment,

hoped-for profit

returned plus

 

much, much more

 

except currency

was learning and

has now been

spent

 

fortunes expended

 

for the price of

anticipation

 

were wrong

things misdirected

done? most likely—

but that is

 

nothing to do

with me or mine,

 

whose goodness

is now out of

pocket, too

 

I trust only from a

flattened place

 

learners will see

new direction:

 

fair winds, then, all

whose needs must

journey

 

cool water on

another side, all

who thirst

 

 

 

(the school where I taught has closed—anyone knowing of a job for a used English teacher or

religious educator, well, maybe you could please let me know)

Chlorine

Chlorine

 

It kills our people

We cannot breathe

And when we do

Oxygen is poison

We are Aleppo

Please save us from

Your warring efforts

To bring peace by

Delivering to us the

Gas bombs first

 

 

Mustard gas from the First World War.  Dissolving lung tissue.  There are reasons—compelling decent reasons—for not using these.  When we do, we surrender all humanity.  Starting with ours.

Meet You at G20

Meet You at G20

 

“gaps of trust”

which I first read as “gaps of dust”

USA and Russia

Obama and Putin

 

we cannot see each other

for gaps of dust

which might be all that’s left

if we don’t see better

 

look harder

for the truth of us

 

C L Couch

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