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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.

Half the Nation

Half the Nation

Half of all Syrians trying to escape—
Too many, for one reason or
Another—failing

Running not due to defiance, not
Because they are combatants

They run because otherwise
They’re killed

Can you imagine half of a nation’s
People trying to run from war?

I’m not sure I can

Help,
Please, help

That is my cry from my safe,
If disabled place

At least, for lack of bombs exploding
Near my children’s ears, I can hear
And feel to think

What else shall we do?

To make homes not over-wrought
But simply safe from civil—civil, we
Call it that—extinction

After half are gone, what can the
Remainder do? This is not simple
Math:

Half a nation left is not division,
There is no numeric cohesion, for

What is left is unmeasured ones of
Split in twos

First ones fled into frightening beyond-
Numbering equations

 

 
(news covered in The Skimm,
dailyskimm@morning7.theskimm.com)

2

Black Life Matters

an opinion expressed potently
in a White House meeting about
murdered Blacks, the living
marginalized—here’s my response

 

 
Black Life Matters

Do I even need to say it
Yes, I do

My best friend was Black
He died too young—
Complications from surgery

What a teacher
And a humorist as well
At least, to me

I am not Black, part
Native American according
To a family historian,
Which is good, though
Looking at me, I doubt
That you could tell

I am not female; I am
The enemy: an older,
White male

I eschewed the ol’-boy
Invitation and have
Often paid the price

Not in my life (though
Maybe there, too)
But in my work
In which I’ve lost the
Favored political place

Maybe each one has
A circle drawn around
From fear and politics

Leaving that (or never
Entering) means that
Protection from the
Core is not available

And some measure of
Persecution too easily
Is acted on

“Loving Engagement”
From a better Black-drawn
Circle of union and
Society change—I don’t
Know if I’ll be let in,
Resembling and, appropriately
(Regrettably), perceived

I’d stay in the back
And write my verse
In which I argue that
All are free

And should be free

That to usurp the job of
God in assessing human
Worth is about as wrong
As this world can get

Black folk (Black discourse
Uses that word; and,
Being from Kentucky, I like
Folk and folks, though I’d
Change the old state-song
Lyrics, too)—Black folk are
Self-determining, of course

I cringe to have to make the
The claim, as all persons,
Being made, are free and
Free to choose

 

 
(http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2016/feb/20/barack-obama-black-lives-matter-meeting?utm_source=esp&utm_medium=Email&utm_campaign=GU+Today+USA+-+Version+CB+header&utm_term=157937&subid=16706344&CMP=ema_565)

4

Psalm 28, a song when I feel haunted

Psalm 28
a song when I feel haunted

I need, Lord, your love

Who doesn’t need the love of
God?

And yet I fear

I fear the ghosts that haunt me
From the past into the present

How do you proceed in this

How do you love?

How might I know peace this
Day from all the days wrought
In iron pain, now fully steel-
Dimensional?

You are here, I know

You can bear sinuous demon’s
Presence away, even into
Annihilation

Yet I feel possessed, perhaps in
Lack of faith:

Past wrongs, mine and theirs, that
Aberrate the life that you first
Shaped

Maybe this is why, in life, the (first)
Psalmists say, Make straight your
Way

For the line of majesty arriving as
The lord of care

Travels truly—with economy and
All divine electricity—on the line

Made edged and replete when we
Ally in your design

6

Psalm 27, a birthdate song

Psalm 27
a birthdate song

My day once a month,
Nine times three or
Thrice three multiplied

Such numeric niceties:
How much do they
Matter?

I make special one day
In my own way, taking
The number to own
Eccentrically

My little arrangement,
My small deal, to
Negotiate in the world

A little something
Shadowed that is mine

Small possessions, Lord,
Do you mind?

I’m guessing not

We all need to remake
Certain days

3

Recessionista

Recessionista

My word for the day,
My gift from Oxford
Dictionaries (add a
Circle-R or TM, I’m
Sure)

Define—a woman who
Remains stylish, given
Limited means (I
Paraphrase)

That’s good work
Now define a woman

5

Recessional

Recessional

We leave the church, and
Were we ever there?

Passing through television
Channels, lighting briefly on
Local access showing state
Legislators quite literally
Working on the plumbing
(Plumbing contractors) in the
Commonwealth (which is
Pennsylvania)

This is what we do: in government,
We fix the plumbing

In church, we fix the pipes as
Well—yes, the organ has pipes
(If there’s one)—but I think you
Know what I mean, for you’re

Wise enough to on occasion
(Split infinitive, I know) to worship
God or wrestle with the concept—
And in some togetherness we
Wonder through sensorial
Experience: sound, sight, touch,
And taste (and, when there’s incense,
Smell), and what happens?

We leave, readier

Unless we’ve done all we could
To avoid changing from the experience

In which case, the processional
Might challenge us

When we go next time

2

North American Union

North American Union
(not NAFTA, more than)

So my friend Dennis
Who taught me how
To smoke a pipe (don’t
Worry; the pipe for
Years now serves only
As a decoration)

Well, Dennis once
Posited a plan—that
Canada and Mexico
Merge with USA

Dennis from Canada,
I the USA, while we
Lived and worked
Close by the San-Diego-
Tijuana border; we
Spoke of our

Now-new nation (and,
Admittedly, this is
Somewhat stereotypical
Thinking from thirty
Years ago), a country

Enjoined: vast resources
Of nature in the north
With great human ability,
From the south with ever-
New technologies from
The land between

So there, Dennis, shared
In time of friendship,

Knowing that all mortal
Things are finite and
So need care to last then
Maybe last again,

Shall we disassemble
Walls—add a writhing
Serpent into bald eagle’s
Claws, all set upon
Autumnal maple leaf—
This our new metaphor
To try?

Perhaps this is a time
To arrange triangles of
Tables, negotiating
Continents of possibility

0

Ruah

Ruah

I have a Hebrew
Book; it is
Beautiful

I don’t know Hebrew
(I, feeling like a fool,
Confess)
A few words translated,
Transliterated

Such as ruah
The wind,

The breath
Out of which
Our God
Creates

As I say,
Beautiful

3

“America Great Again”

(in wake of USA candidate debates)

 

 
“America Great Again”

Presumes, first, that America
Was great; second, that
America is not great now;

Third, that the way to save
America is retro-work—to
Move back

Americans (from both
Continents) were majestically
Successful in overturning

At deadly, awful, perilous
Cost the evil that was Nazi
Warring by crazed leadership

America (USA) is great with
Wealth and resources,
Though deserves skeptic

Observation in generosity
And evened opportunity;
and while one can appreciate

What are traditional, even
Foundational, values, the
Way ahead is not behind

Returning to the basics
Doesn’t work—though we
Can move forward to the

Basics, crafting and cementing,
Dreaming and creating these
Anew—this way makes USA

Great for a new time, which
Now is a smarter reason to
Elect then, wisely, move forward

8

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