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salute

(x = space)

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salute

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soldiers died

ironically

while training

in the weekend

that was

set aside

for veterans

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we have to give them

salute

rest

those who died

this way

in the time

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a model for

the battlefield

death by surprise

when readiness

the mission

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honor these

and families

and all

our family

community

protected

by our own

for these our own

forever

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C L Couch

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5 US special operations troops killed in Veterans Day weekend crash after training ‘mishap’: Officials

Five American service members were killed in a crash late Friday after their helicopter had a “mishap” during a training exercise and went into the eastern Mediterranean Sea, the military said Sunday.

https://abcnews.go.com/US/5-us-service-members-killed-crash-after-mishap/story?id=104830136

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Photo by Jacob Morrison on Unsplash

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The Real Thing

(x = space)

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The Real Thing

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I am not in the war

Except

With my mind and heart

My contributions

Here and there

Not for a winner

But for everything

To cease

While there are citizens

And innocence

To count

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I can’t imagine an explosion

(over me

and I am done)

Next to me

So that I live

But everything is changed

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For what

And whom I’ve lost

All basic things

And anything

Refined

x

A world that’s there

Even to know

The risks in temporality

And to persist

Then what I know

Is gone

And I am hurt

My body

And my mind

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I might get fixed

But something will not mend

Something broken

That the screws

And prayers

Cannot reward

With success

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Some part of me

Who wonders now

A beggar on the plane

Of dreams

And real hours

When I dance

With hate

And seeming

Justification

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For it all

To have happened

And it’s happened

So that

There’s an end

Before the end

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C L Couch

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Photo by Jeff Kingma on Unsplash

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Longing for the God who Stays

(x = space)

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Longing for the God who Stays

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Now to say

Something about God

Whom I do not know

A phantom lover

Cupid to Psyche

Embodied in the night

Gone by morning

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And there the myth must end

For there’s a presence

Always

In the day

In all the hours

Probably in nanoseconds

In the smallest things

Perhaps

Angels dancing with electrons

‘Round the nuclei ephemera

Of thought

And awareness

x

Then the lovers meet

Again in dreams

Where we might talk

Words becoming solid

Resting in the liquid

Like a loving cup provided

Of the night

Out or which

We drink

Words and meaning

Clearly

In the night

x

Which might work

For a spiritual life

Except that in the daytime

There are daytime expectations

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Who really stays

Who really goes

I make up things

For fear

Of isolation

And a longing for solidity

For the God who’s always there

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C L Couch

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Photo by Luca Bravo on Unsplash

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The Dark Crystal

(x = space)

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The Dark Crystal

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I simply thought of glass

A piece of glass

Dark purple or some such

Through which to see

Thus darkly

That

Like the shadows in the cave

Is all we get

For now

x

But Saint Paul

Might have meant

A mirror

For a glass

As it were

A looking glass

That has those dots of age

All around

And in the middle

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We try to see ourselves

We can’t

Maybe when we’ve grown so far

No

Not even then

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The glass is cleared

At last

By faith and love

And maybe transformation

So that maybe

We are ready

With new eyes

More than our senses

Or clarified

So that

All things look new

In truth

Discovery

And life

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C L Couch

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1 Corinthians 13:12

12 For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.

King James Version

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Photo by Pawel Czerwinski on Unsplash

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I Met a Cat the Other Day

(x = space)

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I Met a Cat the Other Day

(thank you, Almond Joy)

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A beauty

Asian of some kind

Rescued by my neighbor

So smart of her

To do

x

Named for a candy bar

(the cat)

And rather peaceful

In her arms

(the neighbor’s)

And I realized this morning

That

Everything’s a little better

Cats as ambassadors

And anodynes

x

Maybe we should keep them near

(my allergies

and yours

notwithstanding)

Near the table

Cushiony or something

Eyeing patience

In proceedings

And then our celebration

Meals

x

Never mind

Inscrutability

It’s a quiet asset

And a signal

Should it snarl

Not to upset

Our table

Or proceedings

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C L Couch

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Photo by Brian Suh on Unsplash

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The Haunted Spaceship

(x = space)

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this was written to a prompt, requesting that we each write a flash horror story; I chose science fiction and verse

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The Haunted Spaceship

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How did it happen

Everything so new

It shone until it didn’t

Dials webbed over

Levers tarred

Footsteps on the ladders

No one there

A crew long dead

Remains reduced

To bones and ashes

What had happened

Smiles into cameras

Perfect launch

More smiles

Funding possibilities

Enhanced

First step into space

This far

To chase the satellites

That sang of Earth

Sending the best images

Of us

x

So far away

Holo-communications

Brought them near

And we were glad to see them

The balanced crew

Representative

Diverse

And curious

Standing for nations newly

Treated into harmony

The fates of nations

Then

Riding along

x

Voyager 9 had sent

A message as a surrogate

That said

Basically

Y’all come

X-y-z coordinates were sent

Along with certain helps

To make the journey

Doable and done

And so went

All Earth along

x

And now a year or so

Into it

Passing a dark star in

Every way

Not foreseen

And then they started dying

Believing they were haunted

First

The ghosts in the machines

Entrails in food

Eyeballs in coffee

Someone did the research

On how to frighten Earthers

Locked in a ship

Passing through outer space

So far between worlds

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The air grew thin

According to the meters

Hallucinations thus enhanced

Even if they knew

They drew within themselves

And then took to each other

Unlocked weapons

Made their own

Attacked with nails

So well-manicured

Pretending claws

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The last two killed each other

There was no final message

The sun poured in

With unseen rays

Into chambers unadjusting

Atomizing everything

Except the ship

Become like consequences

Used to say

Of the breeder bomb

x

A resource now

The Everest now rests

A peak in space

Of our adventure

It waits

Someone will come

From either place

Who knows

Or doesn’t know

What happened

And what happens now

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C L Couch

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Photo by National Cancer Institute on Unsplash

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I Should Get God

(x = space)

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I Should Get God

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I should finish

For the day

Though I haven’t thought of God

Frankly

Enough

Even in everything

Thought

Reason

Let those serve

Better than roted doctrine

But through holy words

Inside

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For there

(sometimes in the world)

God is there

I know

Existence not incumbent

On my knowing

x

It is a choice

Not to exist

But to believe

x

I talk throughout the day

To someone there

Who is not

(if I were crazed)

A Roosevelt

Or Fred Gwynne as an angel

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Though I like Fred Gwynne

An angel

(you may look it up)

And so think of his portrayal

As an angel

Telling stories

In a deep voice

Given to

A sonorous performance

x

That’s my suburban way

Real angels are magnificent

And frightening

Reflecting awful

As in awe

In aspect

In deserved

(for being)

In response

To God

x

But we talk

Maybe-angel

And I

And I am nudged

Throughout the day

For choices

To consider

And which work out

(tend to)

If I listen

x

Presence

Like a present

(pun)

For grace is free

Salvation won already

A door that works

Like a door

Except

Without a door knob

x

We are inside

There is a knock

We know who it is

And only with a latch

Only on our side

And shall we open

And invite

The one we know

If only heard of

Now and then

x

And it is Jesus

Even as a stranger

Exudes the promise

Though we may leave outside

The person

And the invitation

We are allowed

x

Existence doesn’t change

So much

But our will

Is changeable

As it is viable

x

We truly make the difference

In this meeting

Thinking head

Incising heart

Maybe a hopeful spirit

With yes

Well

There is God

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C L Couch

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Photo by Katia Rolon on Unsplash

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if Icarus had reined in the glory just a little

(x = space)

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if Icarus had reined in the glory just a little

(and how could he)

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low above the ground

I think I could handle that

x

maybe that’s how

I fly in dreams

x

which hasn’t happened

for a while

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I used to feel the muscles

just inside my shoulder blades

x

for wings extending

two times out

x

like birds

and then I’d rise

x

from the backyard

or wherever

x

feel the strain

muscles thrumming silently

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inside

over rooftops

x

of the neighbor homes

I’d know

x

the dreams ending with the rising

and a little more

x

a promise

I suppose

x

that flight is good

and I should rise a little higher

x

next time

I don’t know

x

it is understandable

to glory in the moment

x

then go for more

moments and glory in this

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can youth

or anyone with freedom

x

in the sky

not want more

x

want to go on

get closer to the source

x

yet we are reined in

by expectations

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and the limits

of our vehicles

x

someday we might have wings

that aren’t restrained

x

by metal

or by sun

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which is why we dream

perhaps

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design on paper

in the morning

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or the evening

just before retiring

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to set ourselves

maybe

x

to dream some more

over rooftops

x

over planets

in alliance

x

with the sun

this time

x

we awake

to design

x

and make

with nature

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our impulses

to be free

x

beyond the confines

of ourselves

x

as it is

(and shall be)

x

negotiating mortal

with immortal

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our vision

(not the looking)

x

for our sustenance

of spirit

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C L Couch

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Photo by History in HD on Unsplash

Originally from the Library of Congress, this AI recoloured photograph depicts early aviator Steve MacGordon circa 1915 in the cockpit of a biplane shortly before his death. MacGordon was one of the earliest pioneers in aviation and held many of the inaugural records in flight.

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Poetry and Senses (3 poems)

(x = space)

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Poetry and Senses (3 poems)

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Upstart Clay

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God will help us through

By being quiet

Leaving all the noise to us

Except the wind

Maybe the water that descends

To strike the surface

Maybe on the ancient

Mountaintop

That moans

Or the young one that must explode

Or pushing geysers through

The scalding

Earth

x

So there

God might be noisy

After all

To take a part in all this

And remind us

Of the presence

And natural participation

Of the maker

And the making

Which is us

Fashioning our noise

Into making something

Too

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The Color Wheel

x

There is yellow

There is red

Then blue

There are the colors

In between

Orange

Purple

Green

And there we are

x

No white

Or pink carnation

For a crayon

No black to see

Though depending on perspective

Black might be suffuse

x

We love our color wheel

Couldn’t get along

To see

Without it

And the colors might turn concepts

To explain

x

To touch sometimes

Though there is no distinction

Doing that

To smell the color

Which is to smell the paint

Nothing to hear

Unless the wheel

Be turning

And there is humming from an engine

Or a supplicating gear

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Imagine Earth the wheel

Us the fashioners

How are we doing

Are we colorful

Do we six colors

Bordered

Unattended

Or do we mix and blend

And have a globe

Outstanding

Then when turning

Make a noise

Send a message

To the others

Here we are

Introduce us to yourselves

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Wheels within Wheels

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Wheels within wheels

That had been said

As it’s been invented

With clay

With metal

In the mind

Over centuries

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As a metaphor

Plots within plots

Every smaller

Going out

Ever larger

So that families

And nations

Are affected

Even over thrown

Reinvented

From parts left over

Rounded

And toothed

To have new rhythms

And redesigned

Noise

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Wheels that press

Or parts caught

Inside gears

Or there’s so much pressure

So much lack of space

That something crushes

Unless so difficult itself

Breaks the gear

Breaks the wheel

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And someone

Victor

I suppose

Must rework everything

So that we’re round again

And might make music

This time

As we turn

Through space

And time

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C L Couch

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Photo by Matt Seymour on Unsplash

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