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A Wish for Songs to Be Enough

(x = space)

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A Wish for Songs to Be Enough

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Love, love, love, love

The Gospel in a word is love

Love each other

Sister, brother

Love, love, love

x

(with a little adapting)

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Dona nobis

All the songs

We used to sing

x

Often away from buildings

On retreats

A time at camps

Sometimes with circles

In the woods

Even farther away

A distance from our cabins

And the lodge

x

I thought these

Were sanguine places

And the songs

Well

They meant something

And I think they did

And they did

Though there were leaders

Sweating out the details

While we sang

About the program hours

When

They’d have to let us go

Let us be ourselves

A little

For a while

x

It didn’t matter

I wouldn’t be me

For anything

Too many inside things

Contradicting

Outside complacency

While adolescing

x

Then I would return

To find out

The lyrics didn’t matter

The guitars

Or a cappella

Hands in hands

(tentatively)

Singing of no boundaries

But freedom

In the Lord

That

I guess

No one believed

We were on hold

Is all

For part of a weekend

Then return

To homework

And

All of our prejudgments

We had gotten

From our parents

And each other

x

Sigh

Youth groups

And time away

And when away from that

Seeking the green

Leaves and breathing

In and out

Among them

With the better oxygen

Provided there

x

Then back

Always back

For a retreat

There never was advancing

After

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C L Couch

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Photo by Michael Krahn on Unsplash

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Late Human Summer

(x = space)

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Late Human Summer

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The alphabet of storms

Goes on

Blows on

When the alphabet is done

I wonder

If we add prime marks

To letters

Going back to A again

(with prime)

x

The sun is out

We’re getting a heatwave

Because we’re bad

No

Only because

(the only reason is because

though

yes

as a species

we may take blame

for vicissitudes

in climate)

x

Other things have happened

In the night

The hours between day and day

I enjoyed the company of

Friends

And so was lucky

x

I was not on either side

Of war

There was no explosion

Not even verbal

‘Cause we like each other

And otherwise would disrupt

The ritual

Like dropping wine

Or leaving bread crumbs out

In Communion

x

Not that things don’t happen

‘Cause they do

I get The Daily News

And should read to know

Who has killed whom

In shockingly

Petty ways

That had treated victims

As sponges

Softly receiving weapon plunges

Or shots

Sometimes by ghost guns

Now that we have

Ghosts for guns

x

But I’ve only been up

For a while

And haven’t been in touch

With the world

Which will change soon

Or I could take the day off

From the rest

Of us

Except for you

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C L Couch

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Photo by Arno Senoner on Unsplash

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Spice Friday on Spice World

(x = space)

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Spice Friday on Spice World

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I don’t know

My stomach is upset

It nearly always seems to be

These days

It’s gas

I’m told

It’s indigestion

For a cause

Since all the medications

Have their way

And I’m disappointed

I like spicy food

Unsalted

But with inventive

Other things

To try

Except for now

How to navigate

With all the troubled fluids

Troubling waves

Inside me now

And I sigh

Not old age so much

As chemicals

Which might ameliorate

Inside the mind

And the heartful parts of me

But you know

I’d rather have

The spices

As would

Spice girls

And boys

And boys to men

And women who

Stay in

Get out

(abstract or real)

Of the kitchen

Kitsch association

To avoid

Unsuccessfully

The pain

Bring on the spices

And the herbs

Ow

And is this too Prufrockian

Should anybody care

Who is not me

But you might

Associate

Take out my problems

Fill them in

With your own

I won’t mind

For I think

This is how we read

Inexorably

And well

(ow)

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C L Couch

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Photo by Nikoli Afina on Unsplash

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Draft Day without the NFL

(x = space)

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Draft Day without the NFL

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I can’t find anything acceptable

Above

You know I mean my manuscripts

Don’t you

x

I’m trying

And I try myself

To write without the thought

The king pines for

And doesn’t have

To send his words to heaven

x

My I should borrow

Boudica’s war cry

If not

The rebel yell

Or simply howl

Like wolves

And you know

Ginsberg

x

Or dive into the wreck

With Rich

Anthologized

With Aunt Jennifer

x

While watching episodes

In which

The inspector always fall

For someone ingenue

Yet capable

Each time

Every hour

Even in cast changes

x

Do we get the devices

Or is this the sponsor’s guess

About our

Expectations

x

Like the result

In the surveys of

Romance readers

Who require

It turns out

Set things for happy reading

Bodice-ripping by page 80

Some such

x

And there is happiness in this

And they buy books and

Configure ratings

While I have nothing

To select

From selections

No satisfaction from the drafting

Of the several things above

x

Are they on wings

Perhaps

Above what is above

A teasing presence

Not meant

To be

And not in fact

I’m simply frustrated

I haven’t invented

Iliads and odysseys

Today

Not yet

x

Ask a saint

Pray on the splinter

Of a bone

Or ask the Lord

Herself

To have a angel

Whisper

Wait

That would be cheating

It would be

Yes

I don’t have to ask

I ask

x

C L Couch

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Photo by Alexander Zvir on Unsplash

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2 poems—a dragon and the presence of the Lord

(x = space)

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2 poems—a dragon and the presence of the Lord

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A Dragon Calls

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Sigh

A dragon calls

With a harness

For a human

And a land

To fly me to

Or bring me back

As I might choose

x

Thank you

Dragon

I’m sorry if I can’t

Pronounce your name

Though I think it time

To say yes

And fly away

x

A wizard might arrive

With a great horse

On the porch

Though that is the final story

For another day

x

x

In the Presence of the Lord

x

I’m thinking spiritual

The presence is

Well

Everywhere

I’d like to think

Imbued in everything

x

But after making

And our due to credit

The rock does not have you in it

Though the storm

However much we feel

The preternatural push

x

I might find you

In the molecule

Or on the comet

Inside Leviathan

Or in the upholstery

Of the seat

Next to mine

On the plane

x

But that’s because

You are in my own

And everyone’s

You make it

And your own it

And you lend it

x

And inside the nucleus

You are there

In each one

You are there

Not a pantheistic impulse

But to say here’s love

In each particle

Sub-particle

Don’t miss it

x

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C L Couch

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Photo by Laith Abushaar on Unsplash

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Eighth

(x = space)

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Eighth

x

Remember August

Starts in gold

And ends

Overlapping

With the wind

x

The next month is seven

Prior for the emperor

Who never was

And was the first

x

Ten months

And we have twelve

The ones we know

Who count the calendar

Finally

The pope’s way

x

But each month

Has a treasure

In its story

x

This month starts in gold

And ends with

Windy promises

In these parts

Of autumn

x

Unique

What happens

In your days

Divide them up

And celebrate

The units

In your month

And what I hope is your

Many-monthed story

x

C L Couch

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Photo by Thom Milkovic on Unsplash

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3 poems of encounters

(x = space)

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3 poems of encounters

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Love, NOAA

x

Emily

Franklin

Gert

Harold

x

The writer on

The wuthering heights

The character from PBS

Maybe the nickname

For Ms Stein

And I heard one forecaster

At least

Call it Harry

x

Our alphabet

Our panoply

Of names for the destruction

Small gods as small pilgrims

Manifesting through the portal

Moving away at last

To foreign altars

x

And what they do to us

Who would be faithful

If we knew the rites

The saints

For weather and

Forfending the destruction

Of an age

Each time

x

x

x

Grocery Store Evangelists

x

I met two evangelists

Last evening

After I got all the pills

That I needed

Well

Nearly

(the count after

means I need to order

more

silly

heart disease)

And was shopping

For a little more

When a tract appeared

x

Do I believe in God

How about Jesus

And the Holy Spirit

Am I saved

Do I read my Bible

x

I could say yes

And so we had

A pleasant conversation

In the spirit

We invoked

As two and three were gathered

(that’s in the Bible

too)

x

Their work is urgent

And actually

They’re happy

In it

Still the greater task

Not to take on faith-attackers in the forum

But to reach

The dispossessed

Who are indifferent

x

The lukewarm dogs

That Revelation says

Are the greater challenges

To see

To hear

To taste

The need for faith

x

Through all the rings of Earth

The rounds

Of worldly agendas

x

I wish them well

I wish no violence

I wish smooth rhetoric

All love through

Everything

They are

And move

And have their being

x

x

For through God we live and move and have our being.  As some of your own poets (Aratus, say) have said, “We are God’s offspring.”

Acts of the Apostles 17:28

NIV with paraphrase

x

x

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These Girls, These Women

x

I wish I were more

Like Meg

But I don’t have a seeing rock

And I’m not that faithful

Though my feelings

Toward my father

Moved

Evolved

As well

x

I wish I were like Angharad

But I’m not a warrior

And have not won

A blue sword

x

Or the young women in

The Witch of Blackbird Pond

Who was running

From her persecutors

Turned

And beheld

Her ship of rescue

x

I have the managerial acumen

Of Mom

Some of her anger

Too

And there’s my sister

Who does everything

So well

x

Maintains a jungle

In her home

While I take my few plants

To turn them brittle

Though

The pots look nice

x

These girls

These women

We should learn so much

About being boys

And men

And girls

And women

And scions of great literature

Ourselves to qualify

Among them

Should someone tell

With fictive elegance

Our stories

x

x

A Wrinkle in Time

x

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C L Couch

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Photo by Vlad Frolov on Unsplash

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Yet Another Pledge

(x = space)

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Yet Another Pledge

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Enough money

For food

That’s what she says

And the spokesperson

Iterates

Enough money indeed

Food insecurity

We call it

Issue-words for hunger

I suppose

And do we understand

Who needs to understand

How it is

To miss the money

That our planet should provide

Since birth

x

For us

Perhaps

A tissue argument

So thin

To be unreal

Like the gossamer wings

On made-up creatures

Though this hunger

Is for real

And threatens to take lives

And takes them

And this forestalls that

Worked somehow

To succeed

For under twenty dollars

Each

And there’s a t-shirt

That

No one can eat

x

C L Couch

x

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Photo by Jeison Higuita on Unsplash

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In Mexico and California

(x = space)

x

x

In Mexico and California

x

Hilary’s been visiting

With water

Wind

Pages of destruction

Formed by words

Of storm clouds

We run away who can

There is great sense

In this

Those who can or must

Weather

Well

We weather

Waiting for her to pass

Astarte

Or Ba’al

Some god in the storm

We do not sacrifice

On stones

Or inside fires

Elijah’s altar

Would be dowsed

By Hilary

And so prove the faith

When manifest

The truth

Is given

Wait

Maybe wait as those

Who wait upon the Lord

Except for the things

That are destroyed

And us

Left in the center

Trying to stay

On the mortal side

Of all this

How long until

The juggernaut

Leviathan

Has passed

Here

We could use water

Someday shall the satellites

Serve us

With such saving deliveries

To here

From there

Both termini

The people

With our properties

Yes

Our things on Earth

Kept

As rescuing

And keeping can

Stay live

As you and others

Can

Nothing else matters

Until this

Until us

x

C L Couch

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Photo by Alexander Jawfox on Unsplash

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