max
there are rough edges
next
to polished ones
rough things unattended
unattending
not worth much
except attention by
the way
of splinters
on the fleshy parts of fingers
or maybe
with greater pain
underneath
nails
we sand these away
work them over with varnish
and right angles
taking them
down
using nail guns
then attaching labels
with squiggly squares
(QR?)
promising of prices
and that’s wood
but it applies to fabric
too
and even bricks
so many things
in fact
in order
(and ordering)
to have a smooth
and gilt
world
without rough
except for sex sometimes
which in the morning
is forgotten
over
coffee
served with euphemistic language
and we shop
and look for
the next smooth things
to wear
c l couch
(not advocating hair-shirts at all—only a thought about rough edges, say, on trees)
photo by Lili Kovac on Unsplash
Unseeing
(for those who nearer wait and might get scared about it)
One of the invisible
Left
It seems
To deal with mortality
Alone
For who can understand
How close we are
And who is interested
To know
By being near
To hear
About it all
I believe
Help my unbelief
This prayer
Should be for children
But we own it for
Ourselves
With or without
Temerity
What really happens next
And why must we
Transition to it
With more
Than
An easy walking there
Why does it
Or might it
Hurt so much
Why is it so hard
Here
To come back
From being hurt in
Any way
Is it compensation
For younger
Sinful
Times
It is a kind of preparation
Rehearsing for the final hurt
When we let go
When time
As such
Lets go of us
And will it hurt
And will we sleep
And wake
To walk
Or will we fly
From where we are
And on landing
Will we have
Such a good time
There
So much we do not know
And maybe we aren’t
Listening
Or maybe we discount
What there is to
Hear
In the rush that drowns out everything
Spiritually
to apprehend
As in
What we may buy to own
What we may have
Or believe to have
And I’m sorry for those
Who do not go so far this
Side of things
Who must leave
Early
In our count of things
Without allowances for time
In satisfaction
But in
Something uncounted
Like
Explosions
Leave too soon
Sorry I don’t take you now
While I’m afraid
Trying to make a circle
Of attention
Out of one
And only one
Who feels
Has lost
The other points
To bend the line
To join only
With
A math of one
But could
Relent
In hope
To see
To sense
To know
To say
I am a part of this
Of many points
And
Part of this
And part of them
With me
The points
That is
Be people
Not of politics
(below)
But of a new
And brilliant circle
As we might sing
Of the unbroken kind
And so I could
And should
Join in
And let the others
All the others
Go with me
Any age
Any time
Or nearly any situation
If I might be
Allowed
Or anyone
To advocate
To join as
Us
With us
Who have
As all
(of all
of all of us)
Come from
And thus can and may
Go
To love
A circled
And
Forever kind
Of love
C L Couch
Mark 9
Photo by Jon Tyson on Unsplash
Where the Train Track Ends
(in spirit for Shel Silverstein)
Train tracks seem
Not
To end
And I suppose
Sidewalks
Don’t
Have to end as well
Though it
Seems
They end more often
Or at least we get
To see
Or maybe trip over
If we don’t
(or
someone says
to us
hey
it’s ending)
But train tracks end
Unless in a roundhouse
In a city
Where they end
But the trains are turned around
To go another way
Or the same
Way
They came
But
Underneath our trees
At Christmastime
(or for another reason
and
you know
there could be)
The tracks don’t end
Unless
There’s a reason
Meaning something’s broken
That
We need to fix
And we fix it
And our train goes on
Around
And for variety
Perhaps
We may
If we can
(if the train came with this)
Sound a whistle
Or
In the old
Days
Make some smoke
So I should confess
Perhaps
Our sidewalks were at least
A block away
From our cul-de-sac-ed
And sidewalk-less
Neighborhood
But I had
Train tracks in the basement
And then
To be precise
(and personal)
There was a flood
Down
There
Which was
An end
Though not
The end
Of
Train tracks
C L Couch
Photo by Todd Trapani on Unsplash
Stage Fright
Goodness
What
Shall I say
Today
The day
Is even waning
In its
Hours
Like the fall
That is approaching
With
Its shorter days
But
These last days
Of summer
Though the holidays
Are done
For
School
And such
White things
Put away
I guess
Except
For sneakers
Well
My thoughts
Are consumed
With doctor
Visits
Supra-seasonal
I guess
One of which
Today
Resulted in some orders
I should follow
Into fall
With tests
And then prognosis
Into
The following steps
To take
And are you
Nervous over anything
You’d
Be entitled
And you should not deny
Your feeling when
It’s real
And isn’t fear
Real
My friend
As well as the faith
We’ve come to trust
And
Prayer for all
The easy things
Also the way
As belief
Is the
Way
Through
The difficult
What causes us
To fall
What reaches out
To lift us
Up
Again
C L Couch
Photo by Library of Congress on Unsplash
Born in out of the USA
Labor Day
Holiday
For sales
Last gasp
Before
We must admit
School has begun
Last
Swim in the community pool
There might be fireworks
Tonight
Last flags out front
For a while
And should there be a last red
White
And blue
Parade
The turning
Of
The cultural
New year
This is my country
And I love it
C L Couch
Photo by Jennifer R. on Unsplash
2 patriot verses
Patriot Dreams
I love my country
Though sometimes
It’s hard
To recognize
For violence
Yes
Also disorder
In the halls of politics
And justice
It seems that we all
Lean
Maybe time
To say so
And admit we can do better
Be larger
Than one interest
So to legislate
Even to judge
I am this
And I am that
My group is this
But I can care
Bigger than
That
And must
To make intact
And keep intact
The nation
From the privilege of chaos
And the run of evil
Ripping through
Any sense
Of unity
Faltered
Flawed
We can do better
Larger
Though the irony must be
That patriot feeling
And intent
Be shown in smaller
Ways
The things of families
And of neighborhoods
Leave me alone
Should not be our working words
Not since
We thought
To work out something
‘Gainst an empire
Knowing that
Solitary items matter
As matter
Individuals
Remember
Though
That birthing seems
Separate
But by necessities
Is actually conjoined
That dying
For some choices might be
Shared as well
That we are in our skins
And inside
Our interests
But we do better
Not for
Groupthink
But when we work it
Healthily
Together
By “patriot dream”
(ethereally good)
We may try
(waking
hale)
Vision
Turned like
Named and unnamed blocks
Into
Democratic strategy
And our
Republic’s practice
God save America
All Americas
And both hemispheres
A planet
Nation
For with reason
Any people
In
The world
May
Build this
Choices in smaller things
The easy things
Be easy
While we also have the larger
And complex
Thus
Vote for
Service
For security
Love of nation
Love of home
Families reconstructed
In any number
Blood
And also water
Both safely
Required
We share
The nation’s business
While invested
In
Our own
The larger one
Be ours
Indifferently approached
Perhaps
(check voting
statistics
far as well as near)
But we live on the promise that
We make this
(large
and small)
Our own
Sustaining it in
Quotidian
As well as come-November ways
C L Couch
Photo by Sardar Faizan on Unsplash
New Season
I saw them
Being in the north
I saw them
First changing trees
Of autumn
Ferns
Can ferns be trees
But they were tall
Along the road
Telling me
With any passerby
That the new season
Is arriving
That as
Far as we’re concerned
Is here
C L Couch
Photo by Jr Korpa on Unsplash
a liturgy of us
(and smaller things)
exhale
think of something
of the spirit
now
what would that be
the green outside
perhaps
the blue that sponsors
all the green
the gold
the kind we cannot see
that might be
illumination
well-defined
but then
how well others know
there are other
senses
to be saved
and that save us
from
time to time
what do we hear
what do we
smell
and taste
and what are we touching
now
well
flat surfaces of gray
that smell
and (thankfully) taste
of nothing
though
there is
a tapping
we might hear
as above our chamber door
should there be a raven
perching like
the poet’s
trickster
maybe we smell the coffee
that we haven’t made
or the shower
we have yet
to take
(we break for both)
and now
we are back
with
coffee
to taste
water having touched us
and is this
the investment
of the spirit
that made everything
in six
days
as eras
though let’s not forget
there’s a seventh day for
rest
and maybe there’s mélange
a compromise
most days
in which we rise
from tries
at rest
at least
and then invest ourselves
in small things
call them readiness
and chores
and so we live
you know
as best we may
enormous things
to take
smally
and so ingest
as best we may
the cosmos
in our coffee
heaven
for Earth
as best we may
c l couch
photo by Florian Hahn on Unsplash
the way of all (smart, laughing, faithful) flesh
consequentially
anger
worry
fear
fear
worry
anger
they amass
and through which
we fight
each other
wisdom is not on
that list
or smarts
or joy
strategy might be applied
in fighting
but there might be something wild
like laughter
first
to apply
maybe
laughing
the kind you know
that's
with each other
laughing
we might have a chance
to diffuse
remember what we like
and for which
we hope
maybe we’ll come back
to a phantom table
(I doubt with
most folk
there’s a real table
though maybe in
more formal occasions
or ‘round
the kitchen table
or card table
of the home
and maybe we were talking
there)
maybe we’ll talk some
more
having risked some humor that
turns out
to be shared
then anger
or fear
the starting points
might mean the end
as well
with
wildest of all
the faith we might have in each other
restored
maybe the end
yet
without doubt
the new beginning
c l couch
photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash
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