Teaspoonful
(a season’s greeting)
Another
Try at something
Short
And sweet
Which I could say
Would be my sister
Then
She would hit
Me
Like the jokes I made
In church
And she would laugh
And
Hit me
As she should have
Well
To it
Merry season
And
Don’t go crazy for it
Please
C L Couch
Photo by Betty Miyashiro on Unsplash
Brand-Making
Gray day
To say again
Black branches
I could bottle these
Or at least
(for
sense)
Put them on labels
For our brews
The water hisses on
The street outside
While
Car tires are pressed over them
That if
We had a metal bridge in town
Would change the one-note susurration
Into singing
A wet
And dismal-
Looking day that maybe
We find
Interesting
Difficult eyes
Behold it
Well
While nature-muffled expectations
Provide some freedom
Of the mind
For thinking newly
About things
Certain things
Anything
And so I want
To own
The gray day
If you please
My own kind
To bottle
To open
To let breathe
C L Couch
Photo by Davide Cultrera on Unsplash
[I’m thinking it’s David]
The Winter Mind
It’s late
Long shadows
Winter-coming ready
Longer
Sooner into darkness
Though the thing
Take
Just as long
As any other orbiting of
Earth
It is a winter mind
And winter body
And the
Spirit
We’d like to think
Ready
Always adaptable
But
There is
SAD
And something older
Something eldritch
In the residence
Of spirit
The reason for the bonfire
And the special words
The dancing
After
Knowing that our planet must
Turn the other way
For melting
Seeds
And more
Come spring
Don’t abrogate our lights
The gifts
Of artificial power
Any more than wood and oil
Have shown our way
At night
And yet
Remember we are
Evening people
Too
Affected by the twilight
As it ebbs
And flows
The seasons
Of our kind
And with so many
Sibling species of
The world
C L Couch
Photo by Zoltan Tasi on Unsplash
Which Life Will
It is a day for remembrance
The ships are sinking deeper
Parts of other things
Relevant
Are found below
Now and then
A surprise attack isn’t good
Not for defenders
And all our planes and ships in tows
Exploded one after another
And the people
The people mattered more
And the loss of them was grand in scale
And awful
Enemies to allies
Plans
To rebuild the world
Maybe we learn from these great wars
That great is relative
(like grand)
That loss is terrible
In the unnatural aspect of the thing
In which we kill our siblings
And our parents
And our children
The nations’ lines that
Might come back
Rearranged
While those who live within
Might not be caring more
Than the chance
To live on either side
Though lines may
Determine policies
Sometimes
Ways to live
Perhaps
Challenges to
Pride
A pride I doubt those
Gone
Might feel
Anymore
Though we don’t know the afterlife that well
As for this life
Well
There is that learning
Before we add more numbers to
The world at war
C L Couch
Photo by Luke Scarpino on Unsplash
here’s a chapbooklet for later on Thanksgiving Day or next should such things be saved—happy day, please be safe (irregardless of the world), maybe don’t deep-fry anything
A Day in the Life
It’s a strange world
Uncivil people live above me
By default
Encouraging me
To be the same
It’s a chilly town
In fact
Socially speaking
We bare say hello when we pass
And most often
Say nothing
Nothing
Through eye contact
Either
I suppose there are safe
Encapsulations
Maybe where
The profit’s highest
Too
Little havens
Barricaded from the rest
From us plain folk
Who want
A relatively easy life for interactions
Not to deal with the wanton noise
That simply proves
We’re here
Against and by
Indifferent suffering
Or prejudicial machinations
A happy holiday
Why don’t we
Tried
I’m tired
And maybe tired
Is good for now
I can’t do much
But so what
The world doesn’t
Turn by me
Or any
Rather
It’s a twirling gift
From God
And maybe if don’t clean
Enough
That only
Causes me to suffer
That’s all right
God loves me
Still
Both ways
As God loves you
Parade Monologue
(Thanksgiving day)
It was okay
I guess
Which is an awful thing to say
I’m sure
All the millions
Of hours
And
Yes
All the money
Too
In hope of celebration
For good ratings
I’m sorry
But it’s an electronic masquerade
Anymore
Pretty enough
Though there are mistakes
Mostly let go
(mostly)
Which seems odd to me
When the agenda
Is perfection
Yet
We can’t pull it off
In
Well
Anything
Pretty enough
I suppose
But it could be less perfect
Less tall
Save for the floats
As in
The high balloons
That seem to have a life
For movement
And
I guess
They do
Though where was Underdog
(supposing it’s too much
to look for
the Sinclair dragon
anymore)
The marching
Playing
Twirling bands
Are good
And should get more time
All the celebrities
We could use less
Of the ones
I do not know
And mostly will not see again
Which
I suppose
Is my problem
In cultural ignorance
But
God bless the Rockettes
And Santa Claus
(pulled by a cool
truck
this year)
Whose appearance
Mom would say
Means the official
(family)
Start
Of the Christmas holiday
Season
And I suppose
For Hannukah as well
And
Is it allowable
To wish for less
I wonder
In what begins
Our seasons of wonder
Thanksgiving Daytime
(in October by Canadians)
Water
One coffee
Then another
Yogurt
Time
I’m thankful
I could use less for thanks
Less noise
Less penury
But we have what we have
The days
Are existential building blocks
To make a tower
Of a life
Maybe a giant
Maybe a forest
Maybe a cover
And a framing for
A story about
Noise
A tower
With a giant
In a forest
I could be thankful for that
Too
And for imagination
Yours and mine
That could come up
With such things
Momaw Again
It is Momaw’s birthday
Most likely
You did not know Momaw
From Tennessee
Life in the Depression
A widow
Then the grandfather I knew
And comforts for
The rest of her life
In the nineties
And I’m glad and thankful
For her
Life on Earth
Thanksgiving for One
(how sorry should I feel)
I have a frozen entrée with
You know
The seasonal things
Inside
And a can of
Cranberry sauce
Whole not jellied
(sorry
Joe)
And
Sorry
Loneliness for a table
On my bed typing
In fact
And here I shall dinner
I presume
With noisy people
Up above
And a wish
For angel intervention
Maybe being tired
Is good for
Tolerance
Not isolation
That
Frankly
Today
Is not good for much of anything
An Approach in A-Grammar
(like a-nathema)
I made a lifetime out of
Getting the grammar
Right
And yet
Choose to use no punctuation here
Less and less
In fact
I guess I think
Line spacing helps
And as a reader
You may decide the pauses
Location and
Degree
As well
And maybe read through twice
Before deciding
How the thing should sound
Which could be an agenda
On my part
And thank you
For not smoking
(except metaphorical)
More so
For reading
Thank you
And thank you
Ms Lamott
Scripted
(rom-com)
1
Hug your mom
Why don’t you
It’s time
And regardless of the script
You should
Hug your mom
In this even-fictive moment
2
Two hands in the popcorn
Like
Lady and the Tramp
With spaghetti
More hygienic
This way
More noncommittal
Too
C L Couch
Photo by Odiseo Castrejon on Unsplash
Let It Go
I should write early
Then release it
Each piece a journey
If a stroll
And like a tapestry
There’s thread
And there’s a loom
Something
On which something else
Is framed
The work
The weave
Go out in directions
And make patterns
And there are
The damaged parts
But it’s a
Piece at last
For all our senses
And
Overall
The sense in things
[here’s an example, first thing out most recent session, not revised to death—or life if it can’t reach]
Consideration of the Afterlife and Through-Life
So what happens next
The short answer is that we don’t know
The long answer is
We hear things
Saint Paul tells
There shall be no pain
And our bodies shall be perfect
Perfected
That is
Through some sort of transformation
Some new alignment of
The spirit and the flesh
We have stories from
Those who have
Gone
And then come back
And I don’t know
These stories
Seem
To go along with ancient texts
Of many traditions
Many followings
And
Do we translate somehow
Right away
And where might judgment be
How might it
Happen
Christians say there shall be
Advocacy
In what transpires
And that we could
Be secure of heaven
Not for being
Good
In an unerring way
But for belief
Solely by belief
Sola Dei
Sola Christus
Other groups have other ways
To understand and have
The same
To be respectful and to say
Sola-something else
Sola-someone else
We don’t know what we don’t know
But it seems
We do know things
Though it’s all
So abstract
And invisible
What happens
And criteria
Could be clearer
And frankly sensible
As in
Assuring to the senses
That we have
It all would be
Frankly
Less frightening
As well
But then our will would have no place
It seems
And for the loss of Eden
It also seems
That what we choose
Does matter
And there might be no higher stakes
In fact
Sigh
I wish it were all easier
Though even angels
Without will
We say
Manage to rebel
So all things choose
Perhaps
Nature chooses
In the changing seasons
In responding to
New
And ongoing circumstances
So try to believe
Appears to be the way
Do well
Do good
Because it’s better
More uplifting
More constructive
Evidencing of itself
The better way
Thinking
And feeling better
Too
Children
Believe
For we are all the children
And belief is our
Incumbency
Our legacy
Our lore
The words of God to tell
And evidence in
Nature
Clear enough for being made
By God
C L Couch
Photo by Sandy Millar on Unsplash
“And in death they were not divided. 2 Sam.1.23” (for translation programs)
gray time
it’s late
it’s fall
winter’s rise
a month away
the bears
have eaten salmon
I saw the camera’s highlights
of
bear
red flesh
and moving stream
taking
what is red
away
so now
the bears are done
(the
salmon gone)
and time for the
sleep
of a season
in the impulse of the bear
and the gray comes
earlier
should clouds
impede
a brilliance for a sunset
either way
and then
is
black-paned night
maybe
rest
regardless
after
hours
the next
the new day
c l couch
photo by Val Vesa on Unsplash
Sunset in Cluj, Romania
Hello and Thank You and Goodbye
Here the trees are empty now
That’s fair
Some leaves hang on
Inevitably
Bravely
Though winter is unchanging
Too
And with intent
And will
Comes on
C L Couch
Photo by Noah Silliman on Unsplash
For Edwin
Evidently
It’s
Hubble’s birthday
Happy Birthday
Your gift
To us
Rendering so many things
More clearly
Maybe our gift
To you
Our continued faith
In the sky
World Children’s Day
Today
As well
If we remember taking boxes ‘round
With
Trick or Treat for UNICEF
Collecting quarters
Then millions of quarters for
The cause
The cause of
Children
Need we say it
Though we forget
We adults
Forget
Leaving children inside schools
Or not counting them at all
(beyond
certain
grids)
Until they’re grown up
Into rivals
For our power
For our love
In the mean time
They are forgotten fodder
Uncounted
In the strategies for
War
Women and children
We still say
Which
Didn’t work
On liners
Any more than battlefields
Inside
And in back of
Loss
Hunger
And
Disease
And worse on them
Than on
The older us
Which we older ones might not
Want
To believe
Even though
The wretched things attack
Hope
In the young
As well as young awareness
Okay
We’ll say
And even mean
They are precious
And
They are our future
And they are precious
And
They are our
Present
Last Work of the Day
I think
Not of life
But
To move on a little
Unzip the sweater
Change
The shoes
And leave the make-believe
Awhile
How about
As is supposed to happen
We take the feeling of the sweater
The softer shoes
And
Made-up imagination
With us
Then meet
With feathered insights
Muscled inspiration
On
As has been said
The morrow
C L Couch
Photo by Lawrence Chismorie on Unsplash
Alexander Calder, the sculptor/mobilist whose work is featured here (in Switzerland), constructed a mobile for the children of Pittsburgh, which floated near the entrance to the Carnegie Museum—a favorite thing for me, when a child, to behold
Pittsburgh references to Mister Rogers, too
clcouch123 
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