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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.

I is for Imagining

I is for Imagining

 

(I know, I said brevity in

form; at least the lines

are short)

 

Relevant elegance

Can you imagine?

Like a poet in a tuxedo

Exchanging arctic jibes

Because the penguin

Believes the poet

Is related (and

Antarctic creatures

Always make fun

Of those from the

Warm stove top that

Is the distant North

 

Innovation intonation

Can you imagine?

Like a singer inventing

A new octave for

A new kind of song

 

Everyone might hear

No one will understand

But, known or not,

The singer sings on

 

Abnegation imagination

Can you fathom?

Like a magician who

Returns things to the

Top hat, until the rabbit

Says, “Too much!”

 

As Dorothy Sayers

Might say, if toucan

Imagine, you can, too

 

If two can imagine,

You can, too

 

http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/

 

(Sayers is known for co-creating

Guinness ads in the 1930s,

making rounds again, as all

good things like good drinks do)

12

Provenance

Provenance

 

Record and trace of ownership

Beguiling proof and certainty that

What we have is precious and

Priceworthy

 

I have books I like

 

I like to look at them (wish they

Were better arranged), though

Mostly I like to use them

 

Once signed or deemed valued

In any other way, the book

Becomes artifact, then as such

Not used again

 

I guess we have many things

Like that: with provenance

Proved or started with the first

Costly thing that now needs

Tracking of its own

 

I’d rather try the things—touch

Them, enjoy them in the world

Of rough dimension they came

From

 

There’s beauty in raw elegance

Unproved

5

H is for History

H is for History

 

History is not experience

But a record of what happened

 

My father liked to tell stories

Of growing up along Puget

Sound, which he swam across

Part of with regularity

 

Well, it seems that a border

Dispute arose between folks

In Seattle (probably Olympia,

State capital and southerly

Sound-located) and those in

Vancouver and of all the parts

On both sides—

 

A conflict of two nations, as

It were, Canada and the USA

 

One day the problem was

Resolved in a game of baseball

 

The border was settled over

Nine-innings’ play

 

I don’t recall who won; maybe

I was never told—that’s not

The point—the day was saved

Not with guns but by a game,

Sporting in every way

 

My father’s storytelling was

History—and is—a recording

Of the time and what transpired

 

My telling this to you becomes

A history as well

 

How about making a history

For yours

 

http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/

5

Haiku over Coffee

Haiku over Coffee

(while I was away)

 

Fat robin.  Pregnant?

Why not, this is fecund time.

Eggs into small birds.

(walking through the yard)

 

never never ne

ver will I trust in this a

gain mean it this time

(playing with “never” the way

Shakespeare plays “tomorrow”)

 

“selfishness of mind”

is the “common enemy”

Dalai Lama bless

(at the bookstore)

 

Too much death in news

Guns, traffic, derailments, fire

Country mouse for home

(reading and watching the city

news at the same time)

 

 

So you know, all friends

Each drafting of one of these

Truly with coffee

(even now)

4

g is for gallop

g is for gallop

(verse at work)

 

galloping

I remember not directly the old radio show featuring the masked man Lone Ranger whose mask was made from the clothing of his dead brother a Texas Ranger ambushed in a gully by a criminal gang led by Butch Cavendish I think the companion for the Lone Ranger was Tonto an American Indian with many skills though doubtlessly not treated with the respect he was due I’m not sure who played the Ranger and Tonto on radio but certainly on television still before my time it was Clayton Moore and Jay Silverheels respectively and isn’t that a great name for the Native American companion well Clayton Moore tended to live the part which wasn’t all that bad because in public he reinforced a message to children that justice was good and fair a win even if the winning went hard there was more silver than simply in the name of the actor for the Ranger shot silver bullets from two guns he had wrapped around his waist silver bullets shooting straighter and true so went the lore I think and his horse was named Silver too which led to the famous expression “Hi-ho, Silver!” that the Lone Ranger called usually while his horse reared on its two hind legs and that cry was followed by “Away!” and I swear in reruns and rebroadcasts I think it was maybe Tonto who shouted “Away!” though I suppose I’m only romanticizing to give him more stature when saluting their own show and Tonto’s horse was named Scout but after all the calling set in the saddles of their chargers you know what they did they galloped away from the warm radio brocade panel or the cathode-ray lit television screen and where did they gallop but into their next adventure and should not we do the same

 

http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/

6

F is for Folderol

F is for Folderol

 

An old word for silly when

Something must be said though

No language is required

 

Folderol, la, my dear

Folderol, ha, be near

 

Okay, few words—mostly

Un-worded sounds are sung

 

Maybe to fill in a fear, if

Singers think there should

Be a lyric, and none shows

 

While love is there, shouting

In the mind

 

 

http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/

8

“No Bad Dogs”

“No Bad Dogs”

 

A while ago, maybe

In the eighteen-eighties

(Sorry, I’m tired),

There was a dog-

Trainer named Barbara

Woodhouse

 

Who reasoned that

Dogs were fine—it was

Their humans who

Screwed up

 

I can see that; here,

There is an understanding

That when dogs go

Outside, treats are given

On returning

 

One dog, two dogs, no

Difference—all dogs get

Treats

 

Apparently, timelessness

Is a contract point as

Well

 

And so here I am,

Sitting with dogs in the

Middle of the night,

Not midnight but the

Middle, which means

Later

 

They bark (bad for

The neighborhood),

Claiming the need

To retreat to the yard,

One canine or the

Other (there is a

Tendency, a strategy,

To tag-team it)

 

Many times with

Treats each time, as

Earlier negotiated

 

So here’s what I

Learn: on TV at three

And four a.m., ninjas

Make coffee while

Dragons sell blades

(Presumably katanas,

Too)

 

The Twilight Zone

Prevails (I like that show),

Until we’re told that

Inductive cooking’s best

 

No virtue in deductive

Cooking?  Cooking with

Pre-Socratics or with

Sherlock Holmes?

 

There’s news, but it’s

Recycled every hour;

Local news takes over

Pre-dawn time

 

So, after scant hours

When we all agree

That sleep is good,

We wake up to start

A new round of table

Talk and trips for

Treats (maybe I’ll

End up hating

Hallowe’en—nah, I

Don’t think so)

 

(But) who let my sister

And her spouse out of

The country?  With

Such intransigent

Dissident doggies

Still stateside with me?

 

At least, when today

In just-dawn light I

Open the paper (that I

Don’t take at home)

 

I read that the

Pakistani student union

At the university

Is painting henna

Designs on children

And others to raise

Peaceful awareness

 

That’s good news

 

And, besides, “Who let

The dogs out?”

 

That is me

 

 

No Bad Dogs, Barbara Woodhouse, Touchstone, 1984

“Who Let the Dogs Out?” performed by Baha Men, 2000

4

E is for Erato

E is for Erato

(the muse of love poetry)

 

We breathe in and out our

Bodies matching moving hearts

 

Delight in joined revealing

Opened and shared at last

 

Love lingers, and that’s important

But in this time it’s passion

 

Sending a siren-song whose

Magic we shall not escape

 

‘Til breathing slows and sacred

Act eases into other life

 

http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/

12

Old Poodle

Old Poodle

 

Old Poodle’s rather useless,

Like his step-brother also

Old beyond his breed’s

Allowance

 

But none too bright with too

Shrill a bark—fine with him,

Since his hearing’s hard

 

Looking to command him

Is a whimsical try, for he

Has cataracts thus can ignore

Any words he doesn’t want

To see

 

I think Old Poodle likes things

This way—no expectation

Presses, while his interests

(Not surprising, is it?) take

Away all other precedence

 

After all, anything not sensed

Can become preeminent

 

Useless, loud Old Poodle is a

Dear—‘til God wants him, we

Want him here

4

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